


Tony Stark Has a Heart (And It Can Break)

by TheWriteType



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: End Result Frostiron, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, Loki will fix that, M/M, Oblivious Tony Stark, Protective Steve Rogers, Relationship(s), Slow Burn, Some Stony along the way, Steve Rogers Feels, This is not just a strictly FrostIron fic, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric, but this will be mostly addressing the relationships in CA:CW, it's the romantic focus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:37:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7355665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWriteType/pseuds/TheWriteType
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Or It Can Mend)</p>
<p>"Sometimes Tony wondered what in the actual fuck was wrong with him."</p>
<p>Warning: Spoilers for CA:CW (if that's not your cup of tea, then feel free to watch the movie then read this or not)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time ao3 writer. Long time reader. If anyone wants to beta me, just mention it in the comments. 
> 
> This is a fic that is still in the works, and is my response to CA:CW. I cannot emphasize SPOILERS enough. I'm really basing it a lot from the movie while changing some scenes to fit the plot that I'm going for. If you don't like it, just add some constructive criticisms. Please.
> 
> Tags can be subject to change. Comments, kudos, and so forth are welcome. (Kinda nervous about this so some reassurance to continue would be helpful) 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy. (And I hope that my story makes sense)
> 
> Thoughts: 'italics'

Sometimes Tony wondered what in the actual fuck was wrong with him. In every relationship he’d had, whether it was his parents, his surrogate father, or even Pepper, he was left behind. Here he was, stripping himself down from the lofty palace he’d built with blood spilt (both his and not his own) and tears shed with force like a Biblical rock struck to bring forth a spring to sate the dehydrated masses.

Every moment of pain and suffering that he’d endured, that he’d doled out thoughtlessly, has now led to this very moment. Standing before the future generations, housed in his alma mater, he confesses his regrets and promotes a device more effective than any other self-help books that he might have tried for himself. But. Despite all that, he still felt a lance of pain in his chest when he sees her name flashed before him in bright projector lighting. The words he’s meant to speak, yet cannot in their untruth.

_‘You think throwing your money around will actually help you? Will make people like you? Will make up for the red staining your hands?’_

Tony answers: _‘But it’s not for me. It’s for them. It’s always been for them. Who cares what happens to me’._ He bows, smiles, and walks off the stage with a false strut in his step. He wasn’t hurting. He was perfectly fine, and life just moved on. Right? Right.

In the dimly lit hallway, he meets a dark-skinned woman of aged beauty standing by an elevator and instinctively reacts with his patent public smile. He automatically asks if she’s going up and presses the button for her as an attempt of gentlemanly posturing. After all, what better way to hide his insecurities. It’s worked before, it’ll work again. Light conversation turns heavy, physically heavier than the picture of the young man shoved at his chest. He barely suppressed flinching at the contact, when he remembered that there was no arc reactor embedded in his chest. Not this time. He kind of wished it was still there with its familiar ‘clink clink’.

_‘I killed her son’_

It was his fault. It was all his fault, and the least he could do was hear her out. But he couldn’t. Everything was becoming hazy. Maybe it was because he needed to breath. In the end, he walked away with more tension in his shoulders than when he left the stage. He just needed a second. Or maybe sixty. Two-hundred forty.

_‘God, Tony. This is not the fucking time. Breathe. Breathe, damnit.’_

Tony finds an empty room with a chair as its only occupant, takes a seat, puts his glasses on, and starts his self-help therapy; not even reacting to the green mist that appears in his periphery.

The green mist turned corporeal to form Loki.

“She had no right-”

“She had every right.” Tony responded automatically. “Have you been stalking me, Reindeer Games?” Seeing Loki’s apathetic expression. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Loki steps closer to Tony taking his lack of reproach as a signal that the mortal did not mind being tracked by the Trickster.

That was a friendship Tony hadn’t known was even possible. Some nights ago, while he was still recovering from Pepper, Loki had just appeared with a literal olive branch. Ironic and dramatic Trickster that Tony knew him to be, he was wary, obviously. With no armor or Jarvis, and Friday still in the works, Tony accepted his presence with reluctant caution and ended the night with some relief and bemusement. A night ending with himself still living was a good night in any occasion. Daddy-issues, insecurity-issues, and other more lengthy forms of issues shared over juice and tea (he sobered up already, he’s gonna stay sober damnit) apparently paved the way to make a new best friend, albeit a secret one because of the Earth criminal status.

Tony continued, “She’s hurting-”

“And you are not?” Loki retorted quickly. Emerald eyes stared intensely at the genius-billionaire-philanthropist, whom he’d decided to name friend with his mouth and name soul with his heart. Playing All-Father gave him time to stew and his mind inexplicably went to the mortal before him. Though his methods were not altruistic, seeing this mortal’s past reminded him so much of himself that he chanced visiting him with the hope of having someone who could understand him. With his mother gone, there were not many or any left, really. To find someone he could love, well. The Fates certainly enjoy tugging him in every which way.

“While you may be willing to accept the barbs and slurs they so quickly throw your way, I refuse to simply standby. Anthony, you offered me your words of wisdom in light of my mistakes, so heed them. Don’t allow yourself to be bogged down by their half-formed criticisms.”

Tony kept his eyes forward with glasses still on, but his mouth betrayed him as a small smile formed. One deep breath and a click to turn off the lenses. He turned to his friend and said, “Thank you” with sincerity and slight hesitation, as if the act of being gratified for past-acts was a notion distant from him. “And it’s Tony.”

“Fine, then. **Tony** ” Loki elongated the pronunciation as an attempt to alleviate the melancholy atmosphere. It didn’t.

Tony Stark. He wasn’t the same Merchant of Death. He was Iron Man, and iron tends to rust at the prolonged contact of water and oxygen. Tears shed and breaths gasped. A light watery sheen in his eyes revealed the emotion behind his thoughts, and Loki moved forward to take the man’s hand. From there, he pulled the seated mortal to stand and wrapped his arms around the slighter man’s waist.

“You are worth so much more than you think of yourself. These people... They know nothing of how you feel, what you have experienced... They place value in the wagging tongues of your tasteless gossip.”

Tony left his arms to hang at his sides, but couldn’t resist clutching with one hand at the Jotunn’s coat. “That doesn’t mean, I’m not responsible for Sokovia.” Tony held tight to the other man’s jacket, creasing the leather material.

“Did you tell your creation to hate humans?”

“Well, no-”

“Did you have your missile specifically target the little red witch’s family?”

“No, but-”

“You are human. Fallible. Your heroes are imperfect. Even your all-powerful governments have cracks in their integrity, whether in times of past or present. Honestly, you mortals are too easily swayed by dramatics. ”

“Says the diva” The human hugged back and tapped the god’s nose, making him twitch.

“Pot and kettle, Tony. As I was saying, after your oh-so-rude interruption, human lives are so finite and you yourselves realize that. Lady Death is always an inevitability and a force that cannot be conquered.” The norse god’s brow wrinkled in distress when he realized that his dear one was still a finite being. “I want to weep at the injustice of your mortality.”

Loki held Tony tighter. The Jotunn promised to himself that he would find a way, after all being the All Father had its uses.

This was the same argument they’d had before. “Loki, you know I can’t.” Tony rubbed the taller man’s back and patted it twice in solidarity. “But, seriously. I don’t have enough words. I just-... Thank you. For caring, and being an amazing friend”. Tony placed his head under the man’s chin, enjoyed the kind presence of another, and held back his tears. He didn’t want to incite more sadness or anger in the volatile god.

Loki held back his flinch. Friend was nice, but he wanted more. Maybe, more than the man could give, but he had time. The Norse people saw him as clever and tenacious, and he is, so he ignored the latter statement.

“Shh. I do not hear you when you say this ‘can’t’. You see, I know this man Tony Stark. He’s stubborn, mulish even, and blessed with a mind years ahead of his mortal trappings. He can invent the most remarkable toys and grow to unimaginable heights if given the time. Although it’s too late for him to consume the necessary vitamins to enhance his physical height.”

“Hey!” Tony argued with a growing smile on his face. He tried to pull back, but Loki kept his arms around him.

“Shh. I’m speaking.” At this statement, Tony rolled his eyes at the green-eyed magician. “My friend. He’s been hurt more times than a man deserves in his life, but he gets up everyday. Gives more of himself than he needs to-”

“Okay! Okay. Actually, your Reindeer-ness, you’ve been pretty hurt too. Far longer than I have, Lo.”

“Even so, my time runs differently from yours, Anthony.”

“Tony.”

“Technically, I was given the name Loki.”

“Exactly. Loki. The Norse god of Mischief. The same one who’s endured so much crap from a stupid amount of asses for a thousand and some years. Which means you’ve suffered way more than me.”

“Ah. I cannot dispute your claim for you have pronounced the plural form of Asgardian properly, as well as they’re state of, how you say, ‘assholery’. But you know, my genius human, that the amount of suffering cannot be quantified in numbers or time. More have suffered than I or you, but that does not lessen the suffering we have endured.”

This time Loki bopped his friend on the nose. Tony twitched his nose with a smile on his face. “I get it, Mr. Silver Tongue.” He looked at Loki right in the eye, and the god reciprocated with a brighter smile that showed his teeth. “Thanks for being here.”

“No thanks needed.” Loki brought his head down to make sure that their eyes were aligned and relaxed his arms so that his hands would rest lightly on Tony’s hips. “Remember, I am always here for you.” Receiving a nod, Loki continued.

"Now, take this.” He handed Tony a dual-toned, platinum, and gold ring that had a multi-faceted green emerald with a rune barely visible inside it.

“Woah! Um. Lo-”

Tony raised his hands up to convey his hesitation, but the other was more insistent.

“Ugh...Is this really something you should be giving to-” 

Tony stopped talking when he realized that the mage had already magicked the ring on his left middle finger. With a long-suffering sigh, the brunette looked at his friend and was met with an expectant-yet-quickly-able-to-revert-to-sad face. A face that Tony believed should not be normally seen on a thousand-year-old norse god and readily seen on a puppy, but this is his life. “Ok. Thanks. Thank you. Again. Seriously, I don’t know what I did in a past life to get such awesome friends, but I’m not complaining.” Tony played a bit with the ring.

Loki smiled again and resisted the urge to kiss the adorable man breathless. Instead, he settled with a platonic kiss on the cheek that may have lingered longer than the appropriate length of time.

Tony reciprocated with a light peck on the other’s cheek and a quick one-armed hug. “Sorry to cut this short. But I should be heading over to the facility.”

“Right. Yes” Loki fumbled at the sudden end to their moment, with Tony none-the-wiser.

Tony quickly reverted back to a state ready to face the public. “And what am I supposed to say about the bling on my finger? I don’t really wear rings.”

“You are a genius, yes? I’m sure you’ll think of something. Oh, and no one else but you can remove it. Even at that, I advise you to never remove it. And at anytime should you wish for my presence, simply think it, and I will be there. Don’t keep me waiting too long.” The silently spoken svass was only voiced in Loki’s mind. Then the god disappeared with a shimmer.

Tony missed the guy already, but he took a deep breath, affixed the glasses on his face, and left for the Avengers facility.

‘ _How much should I bet that Steve’s going to wear his constipated-stubborn face. Vision will just phase through objects and be neutral. Natasha’s gonna be the same spyder. Puns. While Wanda being the youth of every generation will be stubborn yet insecure in their growth... Well, damn. Do I sound old? Rhetorical question_.’ These thoughts traveled quickly and Tony breathed out a long sigh as he absently played with the ring on his finger. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's POV and from here on out, I'm going to mix things up with the chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy, and thanks again for the Bookmarks, the Kudos, and the Comments.

The new Avengers’ compound encompassed more land than the former Tower. As per Stark standards, the building gleamed bright as the sun reflected off each angle and surface of the glass windows and metal bases. It was a modern piece of architecture emphasized by the surrounding greenery of the land. 

After a lengthy and tense mission, Steve breathed better in the facility than his old Shield issued apartment that just happened to have a spy as his neighbor, acting as a nurse. He had no hard feelings for Agent 13, but that doesn’t mean he would forget the fact that he was being spied on. Relationships that start with lies wouldn’t be a good foundation for anything long term. 

But now, he had other things to worry about, as he watched the MSNBC news on his computer say that the Avengers were being asked to face the UN big wigs for what happened in Lagos. 

_Sometimes, I really wonder if the world got better. 'Cause all I see is that its reached the point where an international government wants heroes to be charged for something that was considered collateral damage in my time. I'm not indifferent. None of them were. Each of them carried baggage and just kept adding to it the longer they stayed with the job. Besides, dwelling on what could have been wasn’t going to help anybody._

As far as he knew, Wanda was holed up somewhere in her room. She was trying to take the brunt of the responsibility, when it was actually on the leader’s (his) own shoulders. But, what’s done was done. The mission was accomplished and Steve was sure that Shield, after its purge, would take care of the logistics. After all, he had a team to look out for, Bucky was somewhere out there, and they all needed him.

With a light knock on Wanda’s door, Steve asked, “Mind if I come in?”. He took stock of the television that had a news channel decry Wanda’s name, repeatedly. His responsibility for the girl grow as they continued, and a ballsy newscaster even went so far as to ask whether they were allowed to be anywhere. _If somebody needs help, why should I standby and watch everything go to hell. I can finally help out the little guy, and now they want to restrain us._

Then again, none of them were really normal or considered themselves to be anything close to it, except Sam and Clint. 

_It makes sense to be scared of something they don’t know. I guess._ He sees the remote and turns the screen off, while he moved to sit a comfortable distance from her on the bed. 

“They’re wrong, you know. That wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes. Yes, it was.” The youngest Avenger looked at Steve with moist eyes, scarlet shining through. “I have power. I did not use that power properly. People died.” A hitch in her voice. A deep breath. “Because...of me.” Wanda looks to the ceiling and loses the fight from keeping one tear from falling. Her face grows hard. “I would not be surprised if they would name me Stark for the lives I took and the destruction-”

“That’s enough.” 

Steve’s pity and guilt transformed into a spike of irritation. His voice was firm and unyielding, but he didn't let the annoyance in his voice to get through. He knew that Wanda had her own issues with Tony, but he felt that her continued aspersions towards him were unfair. Tony is his friend. Despite their rocky beginnings, the man was one of the first he truly felt comfortable with after getting thawed out of the ice. He knows now that he made a mistake trying to look for Howard, when the whole time Tony was actually just hiding underneath the arrogant veneer. Hiding something vulnerable and fragile but strong and flexible, too. But he knew, if he tried to defend Tony to Wanda, she’d just close up faster than he did whenever he met a pretty dame. _Err, woman. Or fella, now that I think about it._ But he hadn’t owned up to that part of himself yet.

“Look. I get that stuff isn’t easy right now. But you can’t let what they say keep you down. You’re young. And you said it before. Your powers? Their not something you’re completely sure about. Yet. So-”

Steve paused when he noticed Wanda’s attention was somewhere behind him, and looked back. Oh. Vision had just phased through. Again. 

“Viz! Remember what we talked about?” Wanda asked in an exasperated but fond tone. 

Obvious enough, that Steve made a subtle glance between Vision and Wanda. 

_Hmm._

“Hey, Viz.” Steve greeted amiably.

“Hello, Captain Rogers and Wanda.”

“Just Steve.”

“Hey, Viz” Wanda said with a smirk on her lips. Her sadness gone.

“Of course, Steve.” Vision responded and nodded at Wanda. “Pardon my interruption. The door was open. And, um... Steve wanted to know when Mr. Stark arrived.” And here Vision sent Steve an expectant look.

Steve perked up at the news. “Oh. Right.” He nodded. “Thanks, Viz.”

“Happy to help. Also, he’s brought Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross with him. He suggests that we... ‘Immediately transfer ourselves to the meeting room’.” 

Vision, otherworldly though he may be, was gaining human tells and expressions. A fact that Steve observed with interest and little surprise when he remembered that this powerful robot-cyborg-automaton-android, whichever he was, was JARVIS. _Tony’ll correct me later. Probably before I get to ask him._ The same JARVIS that had been there with Tony through some of the man’s most trying times in his life. Even if he hadn’t had much chance to meet the A.I., Steve could hear the love and care that was shared between creator and child. A sad thought occurred to Steve that no matter how much Vision seemed like JARVIS, the sentient being was exactly himself and no one else, so who was there for Tony? _Well, there’s Pepper._

Steve’s smile turned from polite to genuine when he realized what Vision tried but failed to hide. “I’m guessing you paraphrased the last part? Doesn’t really sound much like Tony.” 

If a robot-android-automaton couldn’t blush, they did the next best thing which was fidget like a ten-year old caught saying a swear word in front of their parents. 

“... I may have removed the expletives, but I believe the message conveyed its original intent. Shall we?” Vision gestured to the door, while Steve began to stand with Wanda not far behind. 

“Secretary Ross. What does he want with the Avengers? And when did Tony start playing politics? I’m pretty sure he once brushed off a U.S. Senator at a public hearing with a less than subtle message that had the Senator cuss him out. In front of the cameras.” 

Steve furrowed his brow and attempted to anticipate what the Secretary of State could possibly want with them, an unaffiliated group that was no longer tied to any Federal institutions, American or international. That and he was replaying the video of the Senator with a conflicted sense of amusement and censure at his teammate.

Vision stood outside the door leaving Steve at the threshold. The android looked back at him with what Steve could almost call a reproachful face, if not for the fact that the other’s expressions were usually just neutral, amiable, and curious.

“Sir has always been exposed to the public ever since his father decided to bring him into the limelight at the tender age of four for his ability to build a circuit board. Politics was something that Sir had quickly learned to excel at, otherwise the company stocks would have continued to fall causing multiple Stark employees to lose their livelihoods.”

“But Tony has a reputation for being a narcissist and seems to be generally frowned upon by the media circus.” Steve retorted automatically recalling what he'd read from Natasha's file on Tony. 

“Sadly, yes. Sir’s family was well-recognized for its usefulness in times of war, but when relative national peace was achieved, suddenly the war heroes became villains and profiteers. The media had already dubbed Sir ‘Merchant of Death’ before he could even decide what it was that he truly wanted for himself...” Here Vision paused to collect himself.

“I believe outside sources and extenuating circumstances led to Mr. Stark’s former lifestyle. Any attempts to do otherwise would have most likely been seen as signs of weakness in the eyes of the tabloids. Nearly every moment of his life had been recorded with or without his permission, exempting his birth and his first three years of living.” 

Vision made a thoughtful look as if realizing that he may have said too much about the man who created him. Not to mention, that his audience consisted of a woman that outwardly despised Tony Stark’s existence, and a man known to squabble and argue with Tony at nearly every interaction that occurred between them. In which case, he decided to end the story. After all, it was a tale more worthy in its telling by word of the person who experienced it first hand. “In short, Sir and politics may not agree but he does understand its necessity. Therefore, he wields diplomacy whenever the occasion calls for it ”. Vision ended with silence and more things left unsaid.

Wanda said nothing but her face revealed the strain and disbelief from Vision’s words. An expression that quickly turned dismissive, because no matter how much the man was painted human, she could see nothing but the name boldly painted on that missile that took her parents, and almost took hers and Pietro’s lives. No, she refused to forgive him and held on to her own true beliefs that this was a man who was not to be trusted.

Steve fell silent and felt a deep shame, again. Especially in how quickly he had been able to simply judge a man, who was supposed to be his friend. A man, whom he really did not know as well as he thought he did. 

_Maybe, when everything had settled down, I could try and ask Tony for a bit of his time. Just the two of them... And if it turns out to be a nice dinner at a restaurant with good food and some nice atmospheric candle light, then he could ask for another outing and maybe another. But Tony was with Pepper. If he could even say the word “date” in front of Tony. As friends. Of course._ As things stood, Steve just didn’t have the guts to say that four-lettered word. Even if he was Captain America, this was a battlefield that he had no experience in treading. 

“You're right. Let’s go see what Tony wants. And what this Senator has to say to us.” 

The woman, the man, and the android walked down through the halls hearing and not acknowledging the thoughts and voices that spoke to them in light of the new knowledge they had gained. Knowledge about a man who was once named ‘Merchant of Death’ and now recognized as ‘Iron Man’. It might have helped smooth things over, if all three decided to air out their thoughts in that moment. But only Vision had the sense and belief to speak his mind honestly without grudges or a stubborn refusal to hear things that they did not believe in. It was a mindset that refused to adapt to selective changes in time; that did not realize for even in the presence of peace and heroism, war can be found in a multitude of spaces, both within and without. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sokovia Accords. *ominous music*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These *...* indicate that the dialogue was actually from the movie (and not mine).  
>  _italics_ : flashback  
>  _'italics'_ : thoughts  
>  I'm also messing around a bit with certain details. Hope you all enjoy!

In the meeting room, Tony decided to take the seat that was not at the central table, both as a strategy to better see the room and because he was just far removed from being sociable in his current mood. His hands twitched to put B.A.R.F. back on his face, but it might be seen as an insult to Mr. Secretary; either that, or give a hint that he’s not really giving the man as much attention as he probably wants. 

_‘Firstly, Ross trying to ride my ass for Lagos, when I wasn’t even there, is complete shit. Secondly, Captain tight-pants gives me a look like he ate a lemon and a lime in one go. Thirdly, Wanda still wants to do fiber-infused jazz hands at me. Which she already did with both hands. In my head. Double-fisting my brain. Ugh. No. Never again. Fourthly, Natasha hates my guts and thinks I’m the second coming of Narcissus. Probably waiting to see if I drown trying to save my reflection from drowning. Fifthly- Actually, no. That’s not a word and Vision, my second to youngest is- Well, he’s just too adorable with his positive-neutral face. And Rhodey- bear, the bear to my honey, is being military serious and awesome as usual, so he really doesn’t need to be counted in my list of stress-inducers.’_

Tony attempts to find some sense of equilibrium through his familiar inner banter, lest his guilt start drowning him the same way the Ten Rings had tortured him with waterboarding. 

Throughout Tony’s internal monologue, he noticed Vision glancing at him with a slight upturn of his lips that he rightly understood to be a sign of support. To which, Tony responded with an elated sense of accomplishment at having brought the red and green android into creation. The loss for JARVIS, though, would never go away, not really. 

Secretary Thaddeus Ross walks with a sense of gravitas that is heavily implied by his ego and less by natural charisma. He sticks his chest out and looks down at the table of Avengers before him. He starts to talk by acting out a story about golf. 

Tony’s heard it all from every other politician that peacocks for pay, and he’s read through it already, so all that’s left to do is stare straight ahead in the general Ross-shaped direction. 

_Fuck. Bruce is gonna go green on me and not in the Jolly Green way, either. Ugh..._ Tony starts twisting the ring back and forth as he’s thinking. 

From his periphery, he notices Steve trying to be subtle about shooting him looks as Ross transitions his golf story into a lesson learned from experiencing heart surgery. 

_Somebody give this man an Emmy for the most heavy-handed attempt at foreshadowing. And seriously? He wants to talk heart surgery? Try having it in the middle of a desert. In a cave. Where the last thing I was worrying about was possibilities of infection. But I guess he gets points for perspective. Though, Yinsen actually gets a lot of the credit for giving me that perspective... He should’ve stuck to the plan._

After the fifth, slight, and angled glance, Tony decides to have mercy on the guy with a focused but blank expression.

Their eyes meet for just a second, before Steve gets distracted by a green glint that brings his focus down to the ring on the man’s finger. Confusion in the Captain’s face is casually turned back to the table and Ross, where his expression has become more akin to a constipated and furrowed brow. The soldier out of time uses his left hand to cover his mouth, holds up his head, and places his left elbow on the table. He continues to look around the more he hears Ross sing their praises only to suddenly turn about face with the accusation of “vigilantes”. 

Of course, Natasha answers back asking with enough tones of politeness that Ross doesn’t notice the sardonic lilt, and Ross, the ever-ready politician repostes with “dangerous”.

The air becomes more tense. When the screen projector is brought down, Ross shows them a re-run of the events that they experienced in New York, DC, Sokovia, and lastly, Lagos. As if his message was not already clear enough, Mr. Secretary has the shots focused on people dying or screaming or watching loved ones dying.

“Okay. That’s enough.” Steve said in what Tony dubs the Captain voice. It was quiet, understated, but with enough weight and finality that there was hardly any room for questioning its authority.

Steve did not ignore the glances Colonel Rhodes sent his way or the ways in which everybody else made sure not to look at him. He accepts the looks without complaint knowing that it was all part of being a leader.

_Because a leader who can’t look out for his people shouldn’t have been given that responsibility in the first place._ At that thought, Steve recalled his responsibility to Bucky, his best friend that followed him into danger, who he thought had died after falling from a train, only to find out that he was being brainwashed by Hydra. It wasn’t the time to focus on it, but Bucky getting hurt was his fault and his last tie to a world that he knew. To the end of the line was more than just a reminder, it was or is a promise.

Ross brought out an encyclopedia-thick document and sent it first to Wanda. The second those papers reached her, she glanced at the cover once and shoved it to Rhodes with no attempts made to read its contents. On the other hand, Rhodes quickly looked through its ink and paper with eyes roving from left to right, understanding what the Accords entailed. 

Tony leans forward and places his elbows on his knees. Already predicting his teammates reactions, he curls each hand over the other, marginally blocking view of the ring. From where he’s seated, he can see everybody’s face full on, except for Steve’s which just shows the angle of his jawline. 

But even with that minimal view, Tony can tell that small tic on his jaw that says fight or fight. He waits for the shit to the hit the fan, and it’s not going to play out with Ross still in the room. They were a team and showing some solidarity was the best thing they could do without saying who was for or against all that Ross had said. 

_But Steve just had to have a say_

Tony wasn’t angry with him. In fact, he admired that part of Steve that wasn’t willing to bow when the situation got tough. It reminded him of Aunt Peggy, which was a trait that he’d learned to apply when it came to certain situations in his life. He just wished that Steve applied some diplomacy in the moment, but Tony wasn’t the leader, nor was he going to rebuff the leader of the Avengers in front of an outsider.

Steve noticed Tony starting to fidget, but he felt a cold fury when he saw Ross target Wanda to hand the thick set of documents to. He didn’t know if it was a power play, but he wasn’t going to sit around twiddling his thumbs.

”The Avengers are heroes who act for the people. I believe we’ve accomplished that, and done our best to save as many as we can at each event that you’ve presented. Something that I can confidently say will be applied with any future incidents that require a helping hand, which the Avengers will be happy to provide. ”

Ross retorts, “That is certainly a nice sentiment, Captain Rogers. But the people are calling for the Avengers to show that they really are acting for their interests, and not just going around armed to the teeth without a sense of restraint. In fact, I’d like to ask where Thor, the Norse god of thunder, and Dr. Banner, a genetic experiment turned Hulk, have disappeared to. Can you tell me the exact coordinates of their location? If I’d lost a couple of nukes, you can be damn sure, that I’d better have a thorough answer, otherwise I can kiss my career goodbye.” Although Ross had asked a question, he made it so that his continued lecture pointed out the accusation to be as clearly heard as a heavy slap to the face. 

Steve’s face revealed no sign of being affected, only showing a deceptive calm before the storm. When this storm would occur was a question that should have been answered, but the man from the 40s only answered Ross’s inquiry.

“Thor is currently handling his responsibilities as a Prince of Asgard with his father, Odin. Dr. Banner wanted to take a vacation after the stressful events that he’d undergone after Sokovia. My teammates are people who have other obligations that require their attention, as well as the right to their privacy-”

At the mention of Thor and Odin’s name, Tony couldn’t help but recall when Loki told him of what actually transpired in Asgard and out of it. Remembering that Vision was in the same room, he tried to suppress the thought, but the slight twitch of the android’s head gave away the fact that he must have heard Tony.

_I’ll explain it to you, later. Please, don’t mention anything. Just trust me._

Tony saw Vision nod, making him feel a bit more relaxed. But when he tuned back into the conversation between Steve and Ross, it was pure self-control that kept him from smacking his forehead saying the apropos phrase: ‘I could’ve had a V8’ with a healthy dose of sarcasm. 

”-They have the freedom of choice in what to do with their own time. After all, Mr. Secretary, isn’t that what America stands for? Freedom?”

However, that same dose of sarcasm was not emulated by Steve, considering the affronted silence that had overtaken Secretary Ross at the impertinent and challenging tone.

Tony rolled his eyes, because he always found the reactions people made to be ridiculous when they realized that their paragon of American-ness was actually capable of being a sarcastic troll. 

_It’s not like sarcasm was invented in the 20th century._

Steve wore an innocent expression, as if his question was entirely sincere and not at all an attempt to rile up a United States government employee who had a high standing in the political playground.

Ross -realizing the difficulty in calling out an American icon- had no retort to make, afraid to lose face in front of his assistant as well as of the others present in the room. The U.S. Secretary of State stood statue still with his hands folded revealing minor tremors- probably fighting the urge to throttle Rogers.

Rhodey, ready for any and all contingencies as per military regulations, took charge of the situation. “Mr. Secretary, we understand yours and the people’s concerns, but some of us have just returned from an arduous mission. We all need some time to process through things properly in order to consider these accords with the same focus applied that made these documents possible.” The man with the most military experience in the room other than Secretary Ross turned earnest eyes to the former-general with nothing but respect and humility to color his voice.

In the face of such a reasonable request, Ross decides to bow out, gracefully. The silver-haired man straightens his lapels. “Of course, Colonel. I’ll leave you all to better acquaint yourselves with the Sokovia Accords, and for your sakes, I hope you make the right choice.” Here, Ross smirks minutely, as if he knew something they did not, but who really knows with politicians. “We'll hear your answers in three days at the U.N. gathering in Geneva. Hopefully, we will see you _all_ there. If not, then retirement is your other option.” At the last statement he makes sure to look at each of the heroes seated at the table, and leaves his parting shot to Captain America. “See you soon, Avengers.” Ross gestures for his lackey to come along and both men leave the room’s occupants to a deafening silence after the elevator’s ding signals their departure. 

****

Being the impulsive and frankly, impatient person that he is, Tony stands up to walk to the kitchen while patting a friendly hand on Rhodey’s shoulder as a subtle sign of thanks. This little act turns out to be the signal that ends the silence to start the passionate debate- less a cordial debate and more like an argument.

It turns out that Sam Wilson and Rhodes have the most vehement emotions regarding the Accords, because by the time Tony turns around with his cup of coffee the two are squaring off like a Mexican showdown at high noon. Well, standing across one another, both of them arms crossed, and faces set to stubborn. Oh, and everybody’s moved from the conference table to the couches.

_Let’s get Freudian by talking about our feelings on couches. Best way to find out about our inner nymphomania-slash-satyriasis. Actually, maybe we’ll see if our growth as adults made us fit into the oral, anal, or phallic category. Oral and phallic are easy, but anal. Now that, I don’t do unless I trust the other person. With my person. So my choices are either Rhodey, Happy, or Bruce. Loki? Well he is gorgeous, and he has an anaconda. Loki-conda? Yeah, no. Nope, new friend. There’s a waiting period... Since, Pep’s moved on. Probably. Most likely. Already. Ugh. Getting really bummed out, now._ Tony breathed a deep sigh that had his chest expand and contract visibly.

The brunette leans with both elbows on the marble counter and observes his teammates, again, one-by-one. 

Natasha sits in a separate suede chair with her face blank, nothing to take away from her expression; except for the fact that she seems to be trying very hard to keep her thoughts from showing -which is telling in its own way, but Tony wasn’t going to say anything. On the longer couch there’s Wanda, the emo-magical-girl, who seems to have found some of the answers of the universe in the solid, grey, traffic-ready carpet, while Vision sitting by the arm was providing his own insights. The android pointing out the possible causality between the increase of super-powered crazies with the presence of the Avengers and explaining that continued conflict only bred catastrophe. _‘Yay to all the productive pursuits. And yay for my second to youngest. If anybody’s got the chance to get through to them, a non-human entity should do it.’_

Steve, though. Good ol’ mon Capitan was looking pensive watching the linguistic tennis match between Rhodey and Sam while holding the Accords open. That is, until he turned his eyes to Tony.

Eyes that were suddenly drawn back to the shimmer of green which was on the same hand he’d used to pick up his mug. _‘Damn’_ Realizing his mistake, the inventor tries to salvage the situation by looking intently in his mug, and sees the StarkPad he’d left on the counter. 

“Since when did you wear a ring, Tony?” The question is not asked by Steve, but by Natasha. Suddenly, everybody’s focus is turned to him.

Tony stands up straight, picks up the StarkPad, and gestures to have the photo become a hologram that everybody in the room can see. “I don’t think what I wear on my hand matters, in comparison to the life of Charles Spencer.” 

The Avengers all look in askance at the picture of a young-dark skinned man with a gleaming smile on his face, dressed in casual clothes. Tony continues, “Bright kid. *Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor-level gig, an intel plan for the fall. But first he wanted to put a few miles on his sole before he parked it behind a desk. See the world, maybe be of service.* Help out where he could, and he could’ve picked any place, with beaches, bikinis, or fancy-ass museums, and popular cultural influences, like- I dunno- France. Italy. Japan. Korea. Anywhere. But no. He was a go-getter who didn’t wanna take the easy way out. Not when it came to getting the chance at building sustainable-homes for the poor.” 

A pause, a breath. Tony looks at his fellow Avengers .

“Sokovia. Buried under a building with no gold-titanium armor. No shield. No assassin training. No magic powers. No special-ops classified military equipment. No other-worldly characteristics that could have saved his life. Do you know why?” Tony knows his voice and breath hitched, can feel his eyes burning. “Because we had all that. We. _WE_ were supposed to be the ones that saved him. Cause, ya know, what use is avenging someone when they’re dead!” His voices raises at the last word. 

As he talked, the room stayed silent. His voice was the only sound to visit his teammate’s ears, but he knew which people were actually absorbing and listening, instead of letting it go in one ear then out the other. 

Tony placed the cup into the sink, turned his back to the others, and filled the cup with water watching it gather to the rim. He felt too full, overflowing with too much emotion just like this mug. He turns the faucet off. There was a very strong part of him that wanted to take the small ceramic and have it smash against the wall, have the shards scatter and maybe, just maybe, he can feel a few shards cut him. Feel that familiarity. To have those shards actually imbed in his skin would require more speed and power than he had, but at least if he did succeed, he can physically feel the pain that’s become a steady constant since he first realized how much of a fuck up he was. 

_So you're saying Jarvis and Mom loved a fuck up? Please, they were smart people. They must've seen something in you that was worth it. Even though Mom didn’t really try to stop dear ol’ dad. Then again, maybe her love for you was a biological imperative, similar to why I love her despite the fact that I’d wished so many times that she would get involved between me and Howard. Self-harm doesn’t help in the long run. But it’s still something._

Rhodey made a motion to approach his friend, but was stopped when Steve decided to take the initiative. 

Steve slowly moved closer, as if facing a spooked animal. Then again, seeing Tony so outwardly vulnerable was something that could have made even the most hard-hearted person wary. “Tony... What happened at Sokovia-”

“It was all my fault. I know that. You know that-”

“Tony, I said this to Wanda for Lagos, I’m gonna say it to you. We’re the heroes, and we try to save everybody, but getting stuck on them? Letting all those deaths bring you down? That doesn’t do anything for anybody when we need to step up to the plate because somebody needs our help. We need to focus on the lives we saved. To do that, the Avengers can’t be tied down by these- politicians. I’m not gonna stand by and watch somebody get hurt. Not when I can do something about it. The safest hands aren’t with the politicians that have agendas left and right, but in our own.”

“Steve. You’re not getting the bigger picture here. These Accords? They’re legal documents that were made because the public deems us uninhibited, so they turn to their governments, the media, and ask for these Accords. Papers that can be amended with capable and efficient lawyers. The same kinds of lawyers that SI utilizes. All the everyday joe-schmoe’s and working moms with kids or not are just asking for some sign of responsibility from us. That seems like a fair thing to ask.”

Rhodey finds his voice and goes to stand in Tony’s corner. “Steve, trust Tony on this. He might have the survival instincts of a lemming-”

“Hey!” Tony protests with a small curl on his lips. 

Rhodey continues with his own smile. “But Tony knows what he’s doing when it comes to calling up his lawyers to fix something so that things go his way.” The Colonel pats his friend on the arm as a reminder that he’ll always have his back. 

Natasha decides to chime in. “Much as I hate to say it, but I’m with Tony on this one.”

At this, Tony can’t help his mouth gaping open in surprise like a fish brought out of water, his eyes blinking as if to see that reality hadn’t shifted. “Did that just happen?” He aims this question at Rhodey knowing that the other man’s answer will be reliable. However, said man also seems to be just as confused at the situation.

Natasha sighs and focuses back on Steve to observe his reaction. 

Steve’s disbelieving expression speaks volumes, but Sam answers with the same thought in mind. “You’re siding with Stark. You. The same person that walked into a room full of government officials, practically telling them to kiss your ass if they’ve got a problem, when you aired out all their dirty laundry.” Sam laughs humorlessly. 

Natasha speaks up to defend herself, but suddenly, two phones vibrate loudly. One device belonging to Steve and the other belonging to Tony, each with a text message holding information about the passing of Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter.

****

As Tony stands rigid, staring at the message on his screen, Steve bolts and excuses himself to escape down the steps. The genius-billionaire-philanthropist didn’t feel like any of those monikers that the media had called him. In that moment, Tony felt like a little kid again, hoping that Jarvis would show up to play with him or that Aunt Peggy would just happen to be visiting with a present for him, sometimes an article about a breakthrough in robotics, his own personal tool kit, or a piece of tech that he could break down and build anew. But she was gone. _It says she passed in her sleep. She deserves some peace after all she’d been through, Howard being the cause of most of her stress. I should probably call her family._

He hadn’t had enough time to visit her recently. The few times he went to her before the last included trying to remind her that he was Tony, all grown up, not Howard who suddenly had the same eyes as Maria. 

His last visit was when she had one of her longer, more lucid moments. The brunette told her about his amazing (now ex-) girlfriend, and she was so happy that he had somebody. He’d cried when she mentioned that she could tell her time wasn’t too far away. 

****

_Peggy with her short, white-silver curls framing her beautifully-aged face looked at him with a solemn wisdom in her eyes. “Tony, I’m so glad to hear that you’ve got this girl, Pepper, with you. But you can’t fool me, Antonio.”_

_At hearing the Italian name his mother had wished to give him, Tony’s smile was falsely bright. “Aww, Aunt Pegs-”_

_“No, Tonio. Listen. You seem to forget that your mother and I had our favourite topics to discuss when we had tea-time. You being one of them.” At this Peggy took on a softer smile and looked at him with concern shining her dark eyes. “Please. Please take care of yourself. As much as I tried, it was never enough to get Howard to listen. Stubborn mule that he was.”_

_Tony leaned forward to gently take one of his aunt’s hands in his.“Aunt Pegs, that wasn’t-_

_“Anthony, don’t interrupt and listen to your elders.” Peggy reached out to use her available hand to run her fingers through his soft hair, the same way she did when he was still a young boy curious about his father’s office. “I know you lay no fault at my feet, but sometimes, I can’t help but wonder. If only I had pushed more on this argument or been more present. Threatened him with a stapler. Or just hit your father over the head with the butt of my pistol, instead of letting his pig-headedness infuriate me to the point of abandoning him. Maybe-”_

_Tony looks at his aunt. One of the first women, other than his own mother or Jarvis’ wife, who taught him about inner strength in the face of unfavorable odds. How to be as hard, yet tempered as steel. Quick to adapt but unchanging in the right moments. The woman who taught him that just because society decided to have inequality among genders, colors, and sexuality, did not mean that a person couldn’t fight the system. If not physically, then with the right mentality and stratagems.“You’re right, Aunt Pegs. I don’t blame you. Do you know why?” She stays silent. “Because you were one of the few people other than Jarvis who really tried to fight for me. To talk to Dad, when mom decided to step back during the fight and focus on the after care. Even if you couldn’t always be there, I never thought bad of you. So-” Tony clears his throat and lays his head on the bed next to Peggy’s arm. “So- you really have nothing to apologize for. Okay? I love you, you know.” Tony can’t help his voice trembling as he lets his tears be absorbed by the bed sheets._

_Peggy looks down at Tony in wonder, at this boy -no- this man’s forgiving nature. “Oh, Tony. I love you, as well, my dear Antonio. You always were such a sweet child.” She continues to ruffle his hair. “I’m grateful to have you as my nephew. You know that, yes?” She tilts his chin up to have their eyes meet. “Tony, despite knowing that you already have much on your plate, I'd like to make a request. I’m hardly present most times these days.” When Tony attempts to sit up, the former SHIELD founder quieted his protests by simply wiping his tears. “It’s a lot to ask of you, and I’m not holding you to this. But... could you keep an eye on Steve?”_

_At the softly spoken request, Tony looked gobsmacked and unsure. “Umm- Aunt Peggy, I’m not really sure I’d be the right person for that. And Cap is a grown man-”_

_Her only response to his hesitation was an unladylike snort and a shake of her head. “Antonio, I met that man before he became a Captain, and despite his years ensconced in ice, he hasn’t lived the same experiences I have. He was terribly stubborn and impulsive then, and these same characteristics were obvious when I saw some days ago. Much as he tries to pretend that he’s alright, he isn’t. That man searches for ghosts of the past, when he should be focusing on the present future.” Peggy’s eyes mist in sadness or the continued effects of her Alzheimer’s. “He’s lonely, Tony. I believe he hoped to have something familiar with me, but this conversation we’re having is one of my better days. Something that I only have for a few minutes with Steve when he can visit.”_

_A deep and thoughtful silence followed leaving both occupants of the room each with their own worries. Peggy’s eyes brighten. “Please, Anthony. Although people might compare you to Howard. You only gained his physical looks. You have your mother’s caring nature and Jarvis’ influence to temper you. All I ask is that you be there for him, when he needs you. But I’m not holding you to this at your own risk. Do you understand?”_

_Tony Stark looked at his aunt’s lively and present countenance, carving her memory in his mind not knowing that it would be the last. “Okay-” Before he could finish, her eyes dimmed from the effect of Alzheimer’s and she called him Howard. ‘I’ll try, Aunt Pegs. For you’_

****

With a careful arm around his shoulder, Rhodey brings Tony back to the present where he subconsciously decided to clutch his hand adorned with Loki’s ring. He can see a familiar shape of black, gold, and green in the reflection of the walls. 

“Tones?” Rhodes asks quietly recognizing the emotional state his friend was in since their time in college, but that time was about a man named Jarvis. 

The man in question simply pats the hand on his arm and pastes a placid smile on his mouth. “Sorry to cut this short, Rhodey, but I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Disgruntled, Rhodey holds a hand palm out as a signal to ‘stop’.“Hey, man, don’t look at me like that. I am _not_ a pap.” The colonel pauses to make sure that he was able to get through the other man’s self-protective shell. “Tony, you don’t need to tell me anything. Just...” He sighs. “Just promise me you’ll call, if or when you need me there.”

At the other man’s appeal, Tony couldn’t help but wear a small, honest grin. The two best friends exchange nods and hugs, while the rest of the Avengers nod at the genius’ exit. As everyone leaves to wrap their heads around the day’s events, Natasha walks back to her room and picks out a black formal dress-suit, knowing that she would be seeing both Steve and Tony soon. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took awhile. But it's here! Hope you all enjoy. Thanks so much for the kudos, the comments, and the bookmarks!

When Tony enters his car, he’s not surprised to find Loki already riding shotgun. “A copy?”

Loki shrugs and settles his left hand near the console, where Tony is clutching the gear shift with pale fingers. “I don't think you're currently of a sound state to drive.”

“What are you my therapist? Newsflash, buddy. I don’t do okay when people try to tell me what to do.” Tony bites angrily, only to realize his anger was being unjustly vented towards a worried friend. “I didn’t mean that. The tone. I mean- I meant the actual words, but I could’ve said that better with less attitude. It’s just-” Releasing the gear shift, Tony takes B.A.R.F. out, only to be stopped by a gentle, cool hand. 

Loki calmly retrieves B.A.R.F. from his friend and slips it back into the man’s inner coat pocket. “Anthony-”

“I’m sorry.”

“There's no need for apology, neither was I asking for one.” The Trickster places his hand over the brunette’s right, waiting until it relaxes. “Now, I believe that the best solution for our predicament is to have me take us back to your home. Would you like to enjoy the length of the drive, or something more instantaneous when we’ve gained a good distance from the facility?” 

“You can take the car with us?”

“When it's a small enough vehicle, which it is. Then, yes.” 

Tony takes calming breathes to ease the rapid beats of his heart. “The second one. Instant. I have to get ready and catch a flight to the UK.” At Tony’s response, Loki waves his available hand, so that he can hold on to his dear one’s trembling fingers.

“If you wouldn't mind the company, may I join you at the funeral?” Loki states this softly and does not turn to look at the human until the other looks his way. 

Tony leans his head on the shoulder of the seat, leaving him at the right resting angle to look directly at his friend. “Heard all that, then? The ring is a telepathic link, but it does more than tell you when I call your name.”

Loki waves a hand producing ribbons of green that enter the car. The automobile begins to drive itself. “Yes. But only so that I know what is bothering you and what kind of situation you've found yourself in. A safety precaution, really. ” The god looks ahead where the security gate is about to meet them.

Turning in his seat, he removes the hand that was under Loki’s to place and take hold of the wheel, while the available hand brings the window down. Tony gives a toothless smile to the security guard.

“Mr. Stark.” The security personnel nods and brings out a scanner that results in checkered red lines going over Tony’s face getting recognition for his unaltered facial structures and irises, both strictly belonging to Anthony E. Stark. “Good to go, sir. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks, you too, Miriam. And tell the twins ‘happy early birthday’ from Iron Man.” The security guard smiles in response and nods her head. 

****

Farther down the empty road and nowhere near enough to the facility for them to be observed, Tony glances at Loki and closes his eyes feeling the vacuum-like sensation as the magician teleports them and the car to the Stark mansion in New York. 

The Tower was still finishing up repairs, and Tony didn’t want to go back there for a while, except for business. Not while the thought of his and Pepper’s twelve-percent argument was still so present in that space. 

As for his house in Malibu, no projects to rebuild it had been started. He wanted to give Pepper as much space as she needed, so they split off -her in the West and him in the East, both dealing with SI, separately. They talked things out, and it would take some time for their friendship to go back to how it was, but he did get a promise from her that she would return to be CEO for SI when news over their break up was no longer prevalent. For now, he was back to being the boss, and balancing the Avengers along with the company would just have to be the new norm. 

Exiting the car, both men moved through the space with familiarity. Although the mansion had held some difficult memories for Tony, they weren’t all bad (Jarvis, Anna, sometimes his mother, and sometimes Aunt Peggy to name a few). 

At the door, a woman with an Irish accent spoke through a hidden intercom. “Good to see you back, boss. My condolences for the passing of your auntie. And nice to see you over, Mr. Liesmith.” As she spoke, blue-scanner lights looked over both men briefly, followed by the door unlocking. 

“Thanks, Friday.”

“Thank you for the kind welcome, Friday.”

“By the way, Fri, this is just a pit stop for a change of clothes and some light luggage. Could you ready the jet and call up Happy for a ride. I’ve been advised against driving of any form due to my emotional state.” At this last statement Tony turns to Loki, who responds by simply raising an eyebrow.

Friday responds with, “You got it, boss. Mr. Liesmith, I’d appreciate you lookin’ after the boss while he’s out and about. A disembodied voice can only go so far, if you catch my meaning.”

“Of course, Friday. Believe me when I say that I will do all that is within my power and more to keep Tony safe.” As the trickster speaks, he purposely maintains eye contact with the inventor, hoping that the other will understand, but if not he will continue to try and try, again. It was also very helpful to have the children of his chosen love support his courting. He knew that he could use all the help he could get. 

Tony feeling touched by the exchange between his only daughter and good friend stays speechless, except to comment with, “Sass.” At the other man’s intensity, he can’t help but feel an inkling of shyness, so he positions himself to face the door instead of confronting that look head-on. A part of his brain is trying to tell him that something very important had just occurred, but it’s drowned by the recollection of a funeral that he needed to get to. 

Before Tony could step forward, Loki decided to practice chivalry by opening the door for his svass. Amused, Tony moves to enter with quirked lips, grinning at the magic-user. Accomplishing the first (impromptu) step in his plan to gradually lift the brunette’s spirits, Loki tries to hide the slight skip in his step and tones down the smug look on his face. 

****

Just as the outside was sprawling and lavish, the inside of the Stark manner welcomed its owner and guest with an open foyer. The walls were made of a classic grey stone, while the floors were a dark polished cherry. Certain spaces that were formerly filled had been emptied or replaced, such as the hook that was meant to hold a chandelier, now holding a modern art structure that spun through different geometric arrangements as commanded by the current understanding of Earth’s physics. It hanged low enough to float over a fire pit that had been dug into the middle of the living room floor.

A circular skylight reinforced with thick crystal looked over the living space providing ample light. Some potted plants, in corners of the room to provide oxygen with the added benefit of making it less stuffy. The architecture and furnishings of the mansion were imbued with a combination of modern and classical styles, where Tony made sure to change some of the older decor, except for the areas influenced by his mother, such as the grand piano. 

His mother had played and placed her piano in the living room, where the acoustic of the house would carry the sound throughout the whole mansion. Although her piano was now placed in the music room for safekeeping, another grand was still positioned in its former place. Tony wouldn’t change that, and considering how music was understood to be therapeutic, he played on occasion, usually when Loki had a request -which was often. 

“I’ll just be in my room. Holler or appear if you need me. You’ve got access to the same stuff as before, which is everything.”

“I don't holler, Anthony. And I’d like to choose your clothing for the occasion. While your logo’d t-shirts and sport jackets may be accepted as eccentricity, I think and know otherwise. You can dress much better than you imply.” 

As Loki ranted, he observed with a reserved sense of accomplishment the smile that the other man was beginning to wear, until Tony released a small huff, which might as well have been a laugh for how much he tried to hold back the following snort. Loki smiled widely at this and did not hold his reaction back. 

Tony cleared his throat. “You, sir, are terrible.” The mortal inventor shook his head, amused and distracted from his sadness. “Yeah, sure. Knock yourself out.” 

“I do not see how concussing my-”

“Okay, hold up. Let me stop you right there, Mr. Platinum-tongue.”

“It’s named ‘silver’, actually.”

“That’s because those schmucks that decided on that title can’t tell the difference between platinum, silver, or white gold. Seriously, how they couldn’t see your value, I have no idea.” 

Tony aims an exaggerated squinty-eyed look at the supposed ‘Silver-tongue’, who’s cheeks have puffed and reddened in his attempts to hold back his laughter and shy smile, respectively, at the mortal’s words. 

“I know, you know, that you understand our colloquialisms, so no playing coy here. Hmm?” At the other’s silence, Tony took it as assent. “Come on, then.” 

“I find that you have always been better suited to smiling, Tony. And I have no limits when faced with the aim of putting a smile on your face.” Loki continues walking to the upstairs master bedroom, while Tony is struck silent at the easy delivery of such words. 

With his short pause, Tony is left to follow Loki to his room. _‘It’s not like this is his first time here.‘_

****

_“This is not your tower.” Loki states this matter-of-factly when he teleports to Tony Stark’s location, holding out an olive branch to the man._

_“Son of a bitch!”_

_At the unexpected male voice, Tony starts from where he’d been contemplating his fairly recent break up with Pepper. He was staring into his glass, swirling his apple cider into hypnotizing circles, until a green shimmer appeared in his periphery. His only consolation after that surprise was the fact that he didn’t drop his drink, then he stares at the olive branch in the other’s hand in silence._

_Loki frowns at the expletive. “It really is uncalled for to insult your guest’s mother. After all, weren't you the one who offered me a drink?”_

_Tony stares at the other, dumbfounded. He attempts to surreptitiously search for his bracelets, when he realized that nearly all of his suits were still in need of repair after Ultron. “That’s the only reason you’re here, Reindeer games? I thought you were stuck in Asgard serving an indeterminable jail sentence.” As he talked, he hoped to feel for his phone on the porch table, only to remember that he left it on the kitchen counter. ‘Damnit’._

_Loki aims an amused smile at the human. “Hmm, this jail time you speak of is in actuality very flexible to accommodate the immortal state of Asgard. As for my reason for being here, my answer is yes. And no.” The trickster only continues to smile at the other’s visible impatience._

_“As long as you promise no violence and/or throwing me out of my own house. Then we’re good.”_

_“You have my word that I will not use violence against your person, including defenestration. Can't you see what I have in my hand?”_

_Loki waves the olive branch still in his hand._

_The shorter brunette raises an eyebrow and moves to open the glass door that leads from the porch back into the dining room. Wary of showing his back to the villain, he holds the door open to his supposedly invited guest._

_As Loki walks through the threshold, he turns back to make eye-contact with the inventor. “This may be news to you, as a human, but an Asgardian’s word cannot be broken.” He holds a hand up to halt any protest, making the branch disappear. “Though I may not be Thor’s biological brother, as you no doubt were informed, I was raised by my mother’s teachings. And hers were worth more than any of the Aesir on that plane.”_

_Caught unawares by such a sincere statement, Tony looks once more at the god and joins him. The value of a mother was something that he’d taken for granted when it was around, and missed like a lost limb when it was taken. Phantom pains lingering in his psyche._

_“I guess we have that in common, then.”_

_Moving closer to the counter, he pockets his phone casually under the watch of Loki’s green eyes, but Tony takes out both hands and places them on the counter. “If you were hoping for alcohol, then sorry, but this house is officially dry. So, what’ll you have, big guy?”_

_Surprised at the lack of alcohol, Loki raises one eyebrow in question, but he doesn’t expect an answer._

_“Tea, if you have it. And if not, then the same as yours. The scent reminds me of apples.” Loki observes the other’s movements._

_“I’ve got tea. Anything specific?” Tony asks as he places his empty glass in the sink and opens a cabinet, looking through his stash of tea._

_“Surprise me.”_

_Tony picks up the Japanese, macha, green tea and places some of its contents in a black tilt tea cup. After heating the water with the microwave, he steeps the tea for four-minutes. Checking back on his guest, he subdues the slight flinch from seeing the villain so close, with only the island counter separating them._

_“Milk? Sugar?” He busies himself by preparing his own white tilt tea cup._

_“Milk, and honey. I’d rather not consume any of your artificial sweeteners.”_

_Loki takes a seat on the counter stool and folds both hands under his chin, observing every aspect of Tony that he can see. Watching how the other starts up his own oddly shaped white, tea cup, he tilts his head and attempts to find a sense of calm. The Norse god knows that the probability of the mortal not calling for help was most likely one out of a billion. Thankfully, it seemed that this night fit in the one._

_Tony nods at the others good taste. Both teas ready, the human hands the black tea cup to the alien and the two stay on their own separate sides._

_Noticing that the other was waiting for him, Tony picks up his tea cup with both hands and Loki follows suit. Surprised that his first sip did not taste of some poison, lethal or otherwise, Loki licks his lips and continues to stare at Tony._

_Contemplative silence fills the space along with the sound of sipping and satisfied humming._

_Tired of the silence, Tony decides to speak up. “So... I’m gonna consider the fact that you even mentioned your mom to me as some kind of signal for -- I don’t know. Something heavy, probably?”_

_“If heavy is a reference to the seriousness of the matter at hand, then yes.”_

_“Yes. Hmm. You don’t want to kill me, and you’ve got your drink, so.” Tony pauses glancing down at the counter then up, meeting the other’s stare. “What now, Rock of Ages?”_

_Tilting his head, Loki aims a curious look at the inventor. “I don't know what your babbling about. However, I do understand your question.” Loki said and allows the silence to continue as a pensive air surrounds him._

_Impatient and paranoid, Tony fidgets with his cup by rubbing the sides with both thumbs. A tendency he is grateful to have in light of his flinch at having a hand offered palm up towards him. Wary, he states, “I don’t like to be handed things.”_

_Blinking in confusion, Loki’s hand is left to float for a few moments before he decides to lay his hand palm up on the other side of the table. He leans forward far enough, that his considerable height has him laying his chest nearly flat on the surface of the marble counter. Arm outstretched with the hand not directly in front of Tony, but within reach if some effort were applied. “Better?”_

_Baffled by the exchange, Tony releases a small giggle at the odd adjustment to his sensibilities. Shaking his head, he leaves his own hand palm down, near the other’s with an inch or two of space between them._

_“How about you just tell me what you’re really here for. And. I appreciate your... hand. But considering our last encounter had me flying out of my own window, you’ll have to excuse my extreme caution.”_

_Emboldened by the slight relaxation in the other’s countenance, Loki straightens up to his full height, towering over Tony who is leaning on his elbows with his own tea cup set down. Both of their hands placed naturally by their sides._

_Clearing his throat, Loki said, “I wish to talk with honesty on both our parts. I meant to offer my hand as a sign of peace and goodwill, the same purpose that the branch was meant to convey. I thought the clasping of hands was something Midgardians were known for doing.”_

_“Yeah, I got that. But not all Midgar- Ugh. We call our planet, Earth, so.” Tony gestures in an encompassing manner and continues, “Anyway. I appreciate the effort. I promise I’m not gonna lie, so why don’t you just get on with it. Just tell me what you wanna know.”_

_Loki nods and breathes out,“How did you not fall?”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“Despite our differences in being, we are similar in having poor father figures. They used us as tools, and allowed us to live for that purpose. Continued lies, whispered in our ears to mold us into the shapes they so chose. And yet, you are lauded.” At this Loki pauses, recalling the title and contents of some news on Earth that he had read. “Or were lauded as a hero. I don’t understand it."_

_At the mention of fathers and their negative influences, Tony sorely wished that the drink he had in his hand was a rich whisky. The kind that went down smooth as he swallowed. His throat and inner spaces warmed, but the tea wasn’t really bad. Its herbal scent invading his nostrils, providing a fresh and natural aroma, so calming that it kept him from reacting in anger._

_“This is what you wanted to talk about.” It was not a question._

_Resolute, “It is.”_

_Tony aims an unreadable face at the other. “Fine.” He takes a sip and leans forward, placing his elbows on the counter._

_“Probably, one of the main differences, between you and me was that the ideal person my dad always wanted me to be, was dead. Until recently, but other than that, I’m guessing you didn’t have a Yinsen with you when life went from Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds to Highway to Hell.”_

_Loki’s brow furrows. “I believe my answer to that is yes, again.”_

_“Okay. I’m not getting vibes that you’re getting me, so.” Tony makes direct eye contact with Loki. “I’m guessing your dear old dad liked comparing you to Thor. Telling you that you and him were special, but he still made sure to make it obvious that Thor was even more special.”_

_At the other’s nod, he continues. “Mine was Cap. But Cap was dead. So I figured, what’s the use in comparing myself to a dead guy, when I’m still alive. So I moved on without forgetting. Anything.”_

_“Yes, I understood what you meant in terms of who our father’s viewed to be our betters. But what in the name of Yggdrasil is a ‘Yinsen’?”_

_“Hawkguy didn’t tell you about me?”_

_Knowing that he should tread carefully with such a loaded question, Loki pauses for a sip and mimics the other by leaning forward on his elbows. “Your accolades as a considerably wealthy man in this realm. An independent agent, the man of Iron. An inventor, so advanced that not many can hope to equal you, at least in this world.”_

_Loki smirks at the frown he receives, but turns somber at what he is about to confess. “The archer wasn’t as well informed as he could be with his level of clearance.”_

_Slightly uncomfortable with the other’s continued silence, Loki places his cup to the side and folds both hands in front of him, having them rest on the counter. “You were tortured in a foreign land. Forced to follow their demands, and yet you fought them. Destroyed them. The making of your protective armor and a device imbedded in your chest.”_

_The trickster points one finger at the location of the chest piece, recalling the blue light that had interfered with the staff’s influence._

_Tony stands straight, chest out with both hands bracketing his body on the counter._

_“Well, you’ve got the basics. But I never talked about the man who actually saved me. I didn’t entirely save myself. Yinsen was there. If it wasn’t for him, I can tell you that I’d either be dead or dying. All while still in the hands of my torture-happy kidnappers.”_

_The human inventor pauses for a breath and looks down at the counter, his eyes far from his physical body._

_“The me at that time was even more obnoxious than I am now. Cared for nobody else but myself. Focused on nothing but bigger and better weapons with no thought about the consequences. Not as long as it could kill more efficiently than the weapons Howard made before. And, well, what I wanted. I got.” Tony looks in the general direction of Loki’s eyes._

_“Shards from my own missile scattered, pierced through the protective material surrounding my torso, and entered through my bloodstream. Traveling closer to my heart.” A pause. Two taps on his chest. “Yinsen-”_

_Pausing. Breathing._

_“Yinsen was my doctor. Kidnapped and coerced by the same people who captured me. He reminded me that there was more to life than what I’d done then. What mattered was what I would keep doing with it. My legacy. He said, ‘Well, I guess this is a very important week for you’. That stranger, who I’d met only once before that time in the desert, saved my life. Talked to me in a way that acknowledged my mistakes and told me that there was more to me than what was there.” The faraway look comes back in Tony’s eyes. “And he didn’t follow the plan.”_

_Loki looks at the other in complete and utter fascination. This was a man who bared his soul naturally. The armor was donned for the public, but the person inside would unerringly peak through. A quality made possible by the ever-present brilliance of the animus of the human being before him._

_Closing his eyes, Tony fights the urge to let his tears fall. But there was no reversing the image of his wet eyes._

_Waving his hand, Loki makes more tea appear in both their cups._

_“Quid pro quo?”_

_Tony opens his eyes and tilts his head to the side._

_Loki nods, understanding the gesture as a ‘go on’. “I was, and am, arrogant. In my time of change, I thought that I had found the solution to all of Asgard’s problems. Thor had failed in his coronation and here was my chance to prove myself. I was the king. But I had no one with me. As you said, I was alone, there was no Yinsen to heal my wounds. My mother worried for my father’s sleep, stayed by him. My brother was banished for his recklessness._

_“I was king over a kingdom that hated me. They laid in waiting for my failure. No word of encouragement or support. No acknowledgement of my existence. I was never enough. I’d also learned that I’d been lied to for most of my life. I did not react...well. I know that now.”_

_It was Tony’s turn to observe, and he saw a broken reflection of himself. Much stronger with a power and knowledge that he could not comprehend in his meager years. To have even a small ounce of that power in his time before Yinsen would have spelled disaster for the whole planet. He could see the chaos that would manifest, if such a scenario had occurred. The comparison was terrifying, but he need not voice it._

_Because why argue a reality that was present and tangible before their very eyes. More tea was consumed, and more stories shared, selectively focusing on their fathers and their faults. But it was a sleepless night worth spending, because by the end of their time together, both men walked away knowing they had someone who understood. There was no promise to return, only the clasping of hands, where welcome was silently acknowledged._

****

“Anthony?” 

In lieu of his friend’s question, Tony rejoins the present with the image of emerald eyes reflecting concern for his well being. At the sight, he nods his head to wordlessly reinforce that he was ‘fine’. Maybe not entirely, but close enough. He walks to his bathroom and closes the door. Strips himself and takes a shower, mechanically and efficiently washing the day’s gathered dirt from his skin. If he kept thinking about Aunt Peggy, he knew that his sobs would echo all the louder, with only Friday and Loki to hear him. For now his silent tears can carry him through until they get to London, where her real family is.

****

Alone in the room, Loki continues to look where Tony had been standing and turns away. Entering the walk in closet, he waves a hand summoning a luggage case for the trip and picks out a mix of suits for both casual and formal events, as well as accessories that he believed would suit the other man well. He decided to add one suit in all black as it was the common attire for the Western-half of the planet to wear in times of death. Knowing that red and gold was the other’s preference, he decided to continue adding a few of the color accents, while including more in varying shades of green and gold that he knew would complement the brunette’s lightly tanned complexion.

_‘If only I had mother’s gift in communicating with the Fates. I could keep him from any suffering that might await his future.’_

Loki thought this as his mind traveled back to observe a copy of himself sitting on the throne with the face of Odin. 

_‘I’ve readied the plans to ensure protective measures for the realm are reinforced, and all that’s left for Thor to do is to confirm that my commands are followed. Thanos is coming, and I will do what I can to preserve the land where my mother passed.’_

A slight smirk form on Loki’s mouth at his next thought. _‘There’s also no harm in proving to the people that ostracized me, that the same pariah they wanted dead is the reason for their continued life. Once in a while, it’s best to have the people see the face of their ruler, but other than that, I am painfully, absolutely. Bored. I should have known simply sitting on a throne would be akin to slow, miserable torture.’_

Sooner or later, he can finally release the facade and reveal all to the Asgardian masses that he, _Loki_ , had saved them, while their king slept the Odinsleep and the Prince played the pawn. But he believed it wasn’t the right time. _’At least, not yet.’_

The sorcerer glances back at the bathroom in his periphery, while laying out an outfit that he deemed fit for Tony during their travel.

_‘Though, it may be sooner than I think. Tony believes that I only send him my copies, but when I’m able, I enjoy seeing him in person. Whether I can stay with him...is not entirely dependent on me.’_

The bathroom door opened, expelling steam and one slightly damp Tony Stark clad in nothing but a fluffy red robe. 

The magician’s hands paused in mid air as he took in the view and immediately turned around. 

Slightly confused at the reaction, Tony shrugged and continued toweling his hair dry. Just noticing that the man was not only choosing his clothing but also readying his case, he arranged his hands in a “T” to signal time out, though the other was still looking the other way. 

“Ugh. Lokes?”

At the question, the other man looked away from his work but did not stop. Visibly fighting the urge to blush, though he could feel his face gain some warmth, he answered. “Yes?” 

“I really appreciate your help with packing. But- uh, I thought you were just picking out my clothes, not- this.” Tony gestures to his floating underwear and a bag containing his bathroom necessities. 

The Jotun raises an eyebrow in response and zips every compartment in place, finished. 

“It was nothing. I’ll leave you to arrange your gadgets and for me to raid your kitchens. Do you have a meal preference before we leave?” 

Tony acknowledges his point with a nod and pursed lips, questions, “Food?”. His eyes widen, realizing, “You’re not a clone. Since when?” 

“When I can. So, I'll say again, ‘food’?” The immortal shrugs one shoulder and aims a neutral look at the other, hoping that his embarrassment at the slip-up is not obvious. 

Sighing at the man’s nonchalance, Tony waves his hand, “Go ahead. I’m not that hungry. Like I said before-”. A shrug. “What was maybe two-months ago, me casa es su casa. You know where everything is. Probably more than me.” 

_‘Wow. Two months and thirty days since Pepper left. And eighty-eight days since Loki and I had a heart-to-heart. It’s probably a bad idea to befriend an international criminal, but I’m a supporter for second-chances. At least this one isn’t in the middle of a desert with people pointing guns at either of us.’_

Loki strides out the door, completely unaware of the thoughts running through the human’s mind. The sorcerer surreptitiously angles his head, staring over his shoulder, watching as the inventor carelessly unties his robe revealing a toned back that dipped into a tight waist and a cradle of hips that his hands could grip. _‘And grip well.’_ He continues walking to the door, nearly hitting the wall. Sadly, he’s moving and looking away from the tantalizing sight, because he knows that he is not strong enough to fight temptation. 

Absorbed in his thoughts, Tony dabs the towel in areas where the water had gathered. Done with drying himself, he throws the towel into the laundry bin. He spots the new watch that he’d finished a week or so ago (how much sleep he did not have at the time might have had something to do with his lack of accuracy) and packs all his portable tech in a suitcase and satchel. _‘You can never have too much tech. ‘_

Satisfied, he turns to the bed and looks over the clothes Loki laid out for him. A single eyebrow rises in amusement at the green button up, while he nods in approval at the dark, wine colored slacks, tailored to his lower body’s every curve and line. His socks match his pants in color but are patched with a criss-crossed diamond pattern. After putting the clothes on, Tony shakes his head at his reflection, since he looks nothing like a mourner should. 

As he fixes Loki’s ring back on his left, middle finger, Friday’s voice ends the silence, “Boss, Mr. Hogan calling. Shall I put him through?” 

“Sure, Fri. Thanks.” 

Happy Hogan’s voice comes through the speakers, “Tony, I’ve got the jet ready. ETA in ten-minutes. If you don’t mind me asking, boss, what’s in London? And should I come with you?”. The man’s voice comes through clearly with little distortion, not hiding his worry.

“Thanks, Hapster. And I’ve just got some stuff to handle. I’ll tell you when you get here. You don’t need to come with. I’ve already got somebody, and I’m still sending you to Pep-”. Tony coughs. “Ms. Potts. I know you’ll keep her safe.” 

A few seconds of silence fills the room. Happy answers, “O-Okay, boss. Yeah. You know you can count on me. Be there soon.” 

“See ya, Hap.” Silence.

Jaw tight and his brow furrowed as if fighting a headache, Tony curls his hand into a fist and uses the side with his thumb to bang at his forehead, two, three times. He sighs heavily. Grabbing the loafers that had been set by the foot of his bed, he takes one of his red-tinted sunglasses, B.A.R.F. in his carry-on satchel. As he starts to carry some of the luggage, he stops, noticing Loki at the door. 

“Lo-” 

“Come. Friday told me that you enjoy grilled-cheese sandwiches. They were simple to make.” Loki straightens up from leaning on the door and offers the man an outstretched hand.

“The luggage.” 

Tony knows his voice has gone plaintive. Knows that his eyes have gone wide in vulnerability, but he trusts the other man not to take advantage of him. 

Loki snaps his fingers with the hand by his side, releasing a green mist that first enfolds over the other man and takes the form of hands that carry the luggage and his shoes downstairs near the front door. Tony is left with the clothes on his back, his sunglasses on his collar, and his socked feet. The sorcerer leaves his outstretched hand in offer.

Stepping forward and placing his hand lightly in the other’s, he jumps, not expecting Loki to entwine their fingers together. The niggling at the back of his mind from earlier comes back, telling him that he should understand what’s happening. 

The magic-user tugs him down the steps to the counter, where they first talked honestly and openly with one another. 

“Eat.” 

“Thank you.” Both men know that the mortal was thanking him for more than just the sandwich, but there was no need to elaborate. 

Tony asks, “What about you?”, when he notices that the other is not eating. 

Loki readies a cup of tea for Tony in reverse to their first conversation. “I’ve already eaten my fill.” 

“And your clothes?” 

Opening his palm, Loki opens a small pocket in the air. “I have my pocket-dimensions, and I can glamor my clothes to take whatever form I wish.” 

Waving his hand over himself, Loki dons a pair of pants with a match to Tony’s shirt in color. His own shirt is jet black with thin lines of gold going over both shoulders to his front and his back, bringing attention to his toned chest and abdomen. 

“What about your-” Tony gestures to the entirety of the other. “Your face? Features?”

A gold green shimmer takes over the magician’s head. Loki’s long black hair is shortened into a more military cut in a dirty blond shade, while his eyes stay the same shade of bottle green as before. His facial structure is slightly skewed from its original arrangement, enough that any sensors would be unable to recognize him as the same villain that had invaded New York, but still recognizable to Tony.

Mesmerized by the other’s obvious flouting of physics, he remembers something. 

“Lo? If you don’t mind, I kinda did a me and made something for you?” Tony tilts his head in question. 

Loki, both flattered and suddenly hit with a bout of timidity, nods his acquiescence. 

“Okay. Just- stay right here. Be right back.” 

Tony walks out of the kitchen-slash-dining area to the basement, leaving Loki to his tea and to wonder what the inventor might have created. 

In naught but a few minutes, Tony enters the room with a black box large enough to carry it with both hands. 

“Here.” Tony offers the box to Loki, gripping both sides and only relinquishing it when he feels the other man accept it. 

Opening the box slowly, Loki opens his eyes in wonder at the wrist-watch, taking up very little space in the container due to the pillow and padded inner walls of the box. The time-keeping piece has a rectangular green-face, two-toned yellow and white gold borders, and a black-metallic titanium bracelet, it was an exact copy of the same watch that Tony wore on his wrist, except for the coloring. 

Nervous, Tony starts to explain himself. “I was making mine and I had enough materials left over, so I figured why not and made you one, except. You know -green. And it’s not like you can get service in space if I gave you a Starkphone. Something that I still need to work on-”. He wiggles his ring hand and licks his bottom lip. “I can’t really give you jewelry that lets you communicate telepathically, either, so ta d-” 

Taking his eyes off the watch, he turns adoring eyes to the inventor. His smile widening at the man’s adorable babbling and gesturing, Loki steps around the counter and moves to ease the other’s embarrassment with a hug. However his subconscious said otherwise. His lips meet soft, un-chapped lips and he feels the human’s finely trimmed beard. This close he can see kernels of gold in light-brown eyes framed by long curled lashes. 

Both men were obviously surprised by it since their eyes were wide open. Loki backed away slowly, while Tony stayed still, his mouth forming words before the sound followed. 

“Lok-”, the doorbell rings. 

Friday, in response to the ring, states, “Mr. Hogan at the door for you, boss.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This type of updating is probably gonna be my norm. Which is why I didn't want to put any betas through the mess that I am. Agonized so much over this chapter. So ridiculous. I had two goals in this chapter and I only met one of them. I came up with a new goal while I was writing it (I really did). The next one may also be awhile due to responsibilities and such. Take care everyone! (may be back in two-three weeks).


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Tony try to have a conversation. Happy is perceptive, and he's on Team Ironman.

Tony blinks at the interruption, says, “Uh- Uh-um." He clears his throat. "Fri, let him in.”

Both men hear the door open accompanied with the sounds of luggage being transferred from the entry way. 

Loki, knowing that he had no way to reverse what he’d done without an infinity gem, steps forward fingers outstretched, hoping to be met halfway . “Antho-”

“Later. Please.” The brunette holds up a hand, palm out. His eyes shadowed in his attempts to hide the immense confusion and doubt plaguing him. He looks at the ring on his hand, but leaves it on.

“I’m sorry.” The magician’s hand falls to his sides, both hands palm out facing the engineer, entreating. Vulnerable.

Tony winces at the apology and nods, making sure not to make eye-contact with the sorcerer. He places his sunglasses over his eyes, obscuring them further. 

_‘Why am I disappointed? Of course he didn’t mean it that way. Probably just got caught up in the moment. The kiss didn’t mean anything. Yup.’_

“Wait! I meant-” His love’s eyes obscured from him once more, Loki’s anxiety increases and is interrupted with the presence of Happy Hogan. 

Bright-eyed with a bit of red on his cheeks, Happy smiles at his former employer. “Hey, Tony! I’ve got the bags set in the trunk.” 

“Hey, Hap. Thanks again for coming on such short notice.”

Spotting an unfamiliar face, the smile turns to a frown, suspicious, “Not a problem. Who’s this?”

“Hap, be cool.” Happy continues to stare daggers at Loki, a gesture that is returned in full. “Seriously. No? You’re not listening. Both of you, stop glaring at each other. Just- Come. On.” 

The bodyguard moves forward to stand between Tony and Loki, ignoring his boss/friend’s attempts to placate him. Happy crosses his arms and stands firm with a glower. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” 

Loki, caught off balance by the previous exchange with Tony, glares hatefully at the mortal man standing between him and his love. “Remove yourself from my presence, before I make you.” 

Astonished at the anger lining each word, Tony quickly jumps in the middle, arms outstretched to each man. Hoping that his friend could still be reasoned with, “Lo- Loke, please.” Tony’s voice quivers in slight fear, not for himself but for his friend. 

Hearing the lack of surety in his svass, Loki glances at the wall and breathes deep. Turning back to look at Tony, “I’m sorry. Both of you.” The sorcerer nods first to Tony then Happy. “Can I... May I accompany you still? Or would you rather I...”

Tony shakes his head. “You’re not getting off that easy.” Even if he felt confused about the kiss and how he reacted to the other’s apology for said kiss, he wasn’t going to abandon his friend. But he’ll probably extend the time leading up to their talk. 

_‘After all, I am emotionally retarded. Genius IQ defeated by emotional imbalance and PTSD. K-O.’_

Hands firmly placed in his pockets, he turns to Happy, “Hap, if you’d let me finish. This is Loke Friggson, the friend that I mentioned would be with me in the good old U of K.” 

Better to side on caution with a side of compromise, Happy nods an affirmative. Addressing ‘Loke’, “My bad, Mr. Friggson. Can’t be too careful, you know. Especially, with the boss’ popularity. “ He holds out a hand and receives a firm grip in return. 

“Not at all. The fault is mine. You’d interrupted me not once, but twice as I was attempting to explain myself to Tony.” 

“Oh?” Happy, obviously confused, makes a face crossed between a frown and a raised eyebrow in question. “-my bad? Ah. I wasn’t really trying to-” Happy waves a hand encompassing the space, awkwardly scratches his head, and smiles with gritted teeth. “So, I’ll -yeah. I’ll be in the car, then. Let you two square things out?” 

“Nah, that’s okay. We’ll go now. The jet’s waiting and we’ve got time during the flight to talk.” Tony looked at Loki as he spoke, his voice unbending. 

Knowing that there was a time to concede, and it was now, Loki bowed his head in assent.

****

In the town car, a metallic black Audi RS7, the two men continue their silence leaving Happy to wonder what kind of discussion had he accidentally interrupted. Taking a breath and tapping into his own well of courage, he voiced a neutral and reasonable question, “So... Tony. You were gonna tell me about why the unscheduled trip to London?”

Tony turns his attention from the Manhattan-scape to his old friend and purses his lips before deciding that diving right in really is the best option. _‘Like ripping off a band-aid and not caring that pieces of my skin came away with it.’_

“My aunt, who’s not even physically, biologically, or genetically related to me just died in her sleep. I’m going to meet her family and introduce myself. Hoping, that they’ll let me in the chapel. If they say ‘no’, then I’ll probably just stand outside. To be there.” The inventor knows his voice has turned flat and blunt, an obvious tick to the people who’ve been around him for a few years, Happy being one of them. 

Loki keeps a peripheral eye on Tony, wishing that an offered hand from him would be accepted. Instead, he places a hand on the space between them, an offering.

Happy takes a glance at the car’s rear view mirror to see his former employer slouching in his seat with a heavy sigh, one hand over his sunglasses and the other laying a short distance from the blond man’s hand. _Is that a ring?_ Slightly caught by the piece of jewelry and the viridian shine of the stone, Happy puts it out of his mind. _Tony always did like shiny things. Especially the ones with a lot of color._

Tony turns away from both men, no eye contact. But he can’t help himself from wanting to reach for some of Loki’s continued support, even if its born of obligation as his friend. 

_‘It’s weak. Emotions were weak. That’s what dad always said. He who knew all, especially when he was half drunk off his ass. Stark’s had iron in their blood. Makes them stronger and better than normal people. He called me his legacy. His greatest invention, better than all the guns, the weapons. But then again, he’s the reason Aunt Pegs had kept her distance. So what does a dead man know? He’s probably been rolling in his grave since I decided to be something more than head of his company.’_

“Sorry to hear that, boss. I remember driving you to visit her a couple a’ times. Can’t say I’ve met her myself. And if you don’t mind me saying, I didn’t really know how to feel about her, you know? It’s just- You didn’t always come out... Looking good, like you usually do. I don’t mean to talk crap about the dead-”

“Happy, I- Please. I’m.” A deep sigh. “Just-” A clenched jaw. “Just don’t.” 

Determined, Happy continues: “Too bad, boss. See, its been a long time - I mean years- since I ever thought of you as just the guy that signs my paycheck. You’re my friend, too. And I don’t know what that woman was to you. Back then, I mean. All I knew was that you’d come back to the car on the verge of tears or your eyes looking red from crying! Just try to see from my end of things, Tony-” 

Quietly, “Shut up.” 

“- No, Tony. Imagine seeing one of your closest friends. Your having a normal day with them. You drop him off to meet some person you’ve never met before. And nearly every time that friend comes back, they look like they’ve gone ten rounds with a kangaroo. Or that PA who turned out to be a spy.”

A fist slammed on the armrest. 

Happy keeps his gaze forward and purses his lips. Not backing down, but not pushing, either. 

“You’re right. You didn’t know her... I had my reasons for not coming back to the car shitting rainbows like a fucking nyan-cat meme or splitting my face in half with a smile, but that didn’t stop me loving her. Or that I’d even think of blaming her. For anything. She is- was this amazing, gorgeous, older woman, that just happened to have a bad case of Alzheimer’s. She was the aunt that loved and cared about me. Yeah, she wasn’t around everyday, but she didn’t need to be. I mean, hell, she could’ve written a fucking restraining order. Make sure I’d never get the chance to talk to her, much less dog her door step.” 

Tony looks to Happy, knowing his friend can see him in his periphery through the rearview mirror. 

“ She treated me like family when she never had to. Better than my own blood. And it turns out, she treated me better than the man who I thought was my cool uncle, and turned out to be the guardian that was out to kill me. Game of Thrones schtick. I mean, how fucked up is that?” He releases a deprecating chuckle, then quiets himself before it could turn to sobs. 

“...That’s all I’m gonna say on that, Hap. Besides, what’s a little drama between family? It’s a regular thing with the Starks and the extended.” Tony taps his right-hand fingers against the arm rest on the door, a habit that’s only changed locations, and starts twisting the ring with his left-hand thumb.

Loki keeps his silence, trying not to bring attention to himself. His hands shaking and curled together. Truthfully, he was tempering his jealousy. Because he knew, he had no room to speak at that time. He’d never seen what Tony had looked like after visiting this aunt. This argument was a result from years spent together, understanding one another, and knowing that they mattered to each other. Family. 

_‘Once, I would have wished the same with Thor. Odin. To see that I am Loki, the brother. The son. That they would hear me as this man hears my Tony. To think that I would find such a relationship with a human and for that bond to transform into love...this man...with all that I have. And I refuse to ever release him from myself.’_ At this thought, he turns to Tony with that same burning passion in his eyes. 

The other two men are ignorant of the thoughts that Loki had affirmed, but sensing an intent gaze on him, Tony glances back once then faces the window. Back to the neutral, disinterested New York scene before him. Dwindling to open fields of green, trees felled to make space for the convenient transportation of humanity’s civilization. The thing that finally gave man the coveted skill of flight. As Icarus reached for the sun, so does man feed its arrogance with greed and stay afloat with innovation, even in places that should have never been ventured.

“Right. Right, boss. I’m just- I’m really trying to remind you that you’ve got people who care, alright? Me, Rhodes, Ms. Potts. We all care about you. So don’t even try flying solo. And no offence, Mr. Friggson, but you’re the new guy in this Tony circle.”

“G-d, Hap. Way to make me sound like a jerk-circle.” Tony mutters, ignored. 

“Believe me, Mr. Hogan. I’m aware of Tony’s ‘lone ranger’ mentality. And like you, I care a great deal for him, as well. Very much so.” Loki makes eye contact with Happy through the rear-view mirror and they nod in unison. 

“Okay, then.” 

The previously suffocating atmosphere dwindles to a thoughtful space. 

Driving straight through the tarmac and to the jet parked in its own airfield, Happy stops just before the steps leading to the plane. “By the way, Tones. Rhodes know where you’re headed?”

Running his hands through his hair, Tony sits up and scratches lightly at his goatee. “No. Thanks for the ride, Hap. Catch a tan for me in Malibu.” 

“The bags?” 

“We’ve got it.” 

Happy exits the car to give his former boss a tight hug that lasts for a few seconds longer and shares a professional, amicable handshake with Loki. Both men open the car’s trunk and carry the bags as they walk up the stairs. Their attention on a stewardess and the pilot welcoming them, they ignore the man they left standing by the car. Happy brings out his phone and calls a familiar number, “Rhodes, you busy?” 

****

“Shall we keep our mouths shut? I can always speak enough for the both of us.” 

Loki had cast a spell on the airplane staff, allowing him to keep his original visage while the other humans only see ‘Mr. Friggson’. As he spoke, he picked at his nails, attempting to gain some reaction from the distracted state of his fellow passenger with the purposely annoying sound. 

Tony keeps his silence, staring at the clouds passing by without looking once to the irate sorcerer.

_‘I really don’t feel like talking more about feelings. Then again, I did say we’d talk here. Maybe Loki will just get tired of me and move on. It’s the most common trend everybody around me seems to follow, excepting those few independent variables. I’ll just keep ignoring him. He’ll get mad, and we either move on from each other or keep the merciful quiet through the whole trip... Well, that was quick. I already feel like complete shit even thinking about acting like an asshole. Maybe, I’m growing up? But I’m doing it. I’m being an asshole, right now. Fucking inevitabilities.’_

With a last flick of his thumb nail, Loki’s patience snaps along with the noise like a taut string kissed with a blade’s edge. 

Coiled tight with tension but serpentine in his movements, the sorcerer stands up. His fingers dance a rhythm producing green arcs of light with jagged edges like the finer details in a snowflake’s structure, which slowly surround and restrain the inventor. Though they look far from stable, they bind as well as any straight-jacket reinforced with flexible steel that molds to the other’s every curve. 

The haze surrounding Tony’s demeanor disappears and he struggles in his bindings. 

“You said ‘we’ll talk on the plane’. We’re on the plane. It’s time to talk.” Loki hisses. 

“More like talking _at_ me.” 

Loki sighs. “My earlier apology was for kissing you without your consent. I am not sorry for having felt your lips on mine. However briefly the sensation passed.” This last part is spoken with a sullen mutter, quiet but heard clearly enough by the only other person in the silent lounge cabin. 

Finally, Tony turns his eyes to meet Loki’s. The man stops struggling, but the stubborn jut of his chin says otherwise. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

Clicking his tongue at the foolhardy man, Loki says, “Then this will be a very long flight for both of us because I plan to use every waking moment to my advantage. I will get it through your thick, fragile skull that I care for you very. **Very.** Much.” He’s met with a dead-eyed stare, clouded and stubborn. “Believe me, Tony. I have the patience to outlast your hard head.” Hoping that his message has traveled far into Tony’s understanding, he releases the binds, expecting the man to run. The prediction was accurate.

Freedom achieved, Tony stands and walks to the liquor cabinet, but instead of his former fare of full-bodied and well-aged alcohol, he finds bottles of sparkling cider from apple to grape. Knowing who’s to blame, “What the fuck did you do?”.

“Wasn’t it you who spoke of your efforts at sobriety? Why break it now? A little confrontation has already weakened your resolve, so now you turn to the addictive embrace of your precious inebriation.” 

“Oh, excuse me. We can’t all have the metabolism of an Asgardian. Wait a minute, aren’t you _not_ an Ass? Hold up. Actually, yeah you are, except for where it really matters, right? Hmm, fancy that. Where’s Thor when I want him around. Should’ve made him the watch, instead.” As soon as he said it, Tony knew he was sorry. 

Silence, so abrupt and stunned. As anger, regret, and hurt permeate like a ground mist no taller than their ankles. It grows into a fog, thick and towering that it nearly obscures all visibility in the cabin infused with a cold fury, similar to the feeling of plunging one’s hand in arctic waters. The threat of a lost limb, very imminent. But he keeps his hand in, whether its Loki to keep from attacking the man he loves or its Tony punishing himself for once again hurting someone he cares for and who he know cares for him. 

A feeling that Tony was particularly aware of as evinced by his full-body shudder. Each neuron in his amygdala fired in rapid and ordered succession, sending warning signals throughout his body. Formerly golden-brown eyes turn nearly black, dilated, a reaction mirrored by formerly cadmium green, now equally black if not more so. 

Pupil dilation results from heightened emotional responses, most especially when the situation calls for ‘fight’ or ‘flight’. Both men found themselves in said mindset, Loki to ‘fight’ and Tony to ‘flight’. But Tony’s thinks outside the box, and he’s always aware of that ‘surrender’ box that’s so easy to check off. 

Quicker than he could see, Loki had crossed what insignificant distance had existed between them. 

Tony fought to stay standing in the face of the sorcerer’s looming presence anticipating the violence that Loki had easily displayed in their first meeting, feeling that he deserved whatever pain the other would dish out. Unconsciously, he bares his throat not fighting but not backing down.

Some part of Tony had kept his doubts about the magician. It was a paranoia borne of experience after getting burned from ties of blood, trust, and love. Tony knew who he was, and he was the poor sucker that didn’t get a happy ending. The journey would be fulfilling, would change him or have him keep to his familiar spaces, but every step would leave his feet bloodied, his soul wearied. His heart broken. A vinyl record with a deep scratch making the stylus travel a crooked path of circles, hopelessly stuck on repeat. Backed into a corner, he knew he could be as vicious as the next person, especially to the people who mattered.

Loki felt his anger burn him from the inside, leaving searing paths that led to his clenching and unclenching hands. He could feel his breath turn icy. His skin becoming cold and stiff. But he was his mother’s son. Her love carried him through a multitude of millennia, and his love for this mortal was a newborn, needing attention, care, and constant reassurance lest it be traumatized by neglect. “What next? What other barbs have you readied for me? Come now, Tony. You’re a ‘genius’ after all! Using my familial status as an insult? Implying Thor be better than me? Nothing I’ve not heard before. Whispers more poisoned than yours. You’ve used these insults already. Why not speak of her? Use her against me!” 

“I won’t!” Breaths quick and fast, eyes wide in panic, wet with unshed tears. “Fuck you! If you think I’d ever-” 

“Why not? Clearly you don’t trust me.” 

“Of course, I trust you!” 

“Then why lie to me? Tell me, really. Do you hate me? Have all these times we’ve spoken to each other been for nought?” 

A pause followed by one deep breath. “Every conversation we’ve had ever since that first night was honest. Both of us were honest. We have enough ammo to tear each other apart with just a few words.” Tony walks away and drops into his previously occupied seat, his head in his hands. 

“Tell me your thoughts.” A small smile at the miserable huff of breath that escapes the human. Loki approaches, kneeling on one knee before the mortal. “Why won’t you hear me?”

“I don’t know!” Pause. Eyes rolled. “Fine, I do know. It’s- I’m. I don’t know what to think. Some part of me can’t help but doubt you-” 

“Why?” 

“Because you matter... Okay? You matter.” Tony pauses to cross his arms over his torso. “Everybody that matters to me, in some way or another, leaves. They leave because of me or because they’d planned to from the beginning. I’m wondering, what the hell that kiss was even about. And I-” The brunette’s breaths pick up speed in the familiar throes of a panic attack. 

“Hush. Be calm.” Loki bites his lip unsure, but unwilling to change the topic at hand. He explains: “I kissed you. Because I care for you. A great deal. I know-” A breath. “I was planning to court you much later. When I knew that Ms. Potts’ shadow had ceased to dog your steps. I wanted to take my time, for as you said, we know enough of each other that we can but speak a few words and they will either build us up to stand tall over the rest or cut us down from our knees. Felled like dying trees.” Noticing the other man’s attention and more focused presence, Loki asks, “Do you know why I came to you that day?” 

“Of course, I know.” The brunette leans back, his legs thoughtlessly splayed open. His back curves as he leans his neck and head on the back of the chair. His butt at the edge of the seat. Loki scoots forward, both knees on the floor, only some inches of distance between them. 

The sorcerer reaches forward filling the space between Tony’s legs, taking hold of the other’s arms with a gentle but firm grip, the only places that the two are touching. “Tell me.” It’s a plea, a demand, and a reassurance. 

Tony bites his lip, nervous. “You...” A sigh. “You came to me. Talking about your mom, about having some shitty conversation. Demanding honesty. From me. From yourself... I don’t know how. I just know that you thought I was that person.” 

Carefully and quietly, “What person?” 

“The one you could trust about... about _everything_. A person that you seem to think you ‘care for’. And a ‘great deal’, to boot. I mean-” Tony closes his eyes, then looks to the ceiling. 

Loki leans forward and moves one hand to support the inventor’s nape as Tony now looks forward once more. Their noses nearly touching, “Who am I to you?”

Exhausted and somewhat confused, Tony answers as honestly as he ever had with this man. “You’re my friend.” 

Relieved that he hadn’t ruined anything between them, Loki rests his forehead in the center of the man’s chest, the same place where the arc reactor was once housed. 

Rubbing his forehead on the other, repentant but moving forward. “I’m so sorry. But when you’d given me that time piece. I hadn’t even moved my body consciously. It moved itself by the sheer joy that flooded me at your gift. Made by your own hands-” 

A hand raised to halt Loki. “I understand. Please. Can we- We’ll talk more after?” 

Oddly enough, Loki nods and looses his grip to a light hold. He should feel tired of hearing those words, but for an opportunity to find something like this does not come frequent, even for an immortal. Not yet leaving their proximity, Loki is greedy to keep breathing Tony’s air for however long he’s allowed this. Wishing and hoping that it would be welcome for a long continued future.

Assured that everything was somewhat back to a semblance of normal, Tony relaxes. Eyes closed with long lashes fanning a lightly tanned face. Everything from Steve, the Accords, to hearing about Aunt Peggy’s funeral, had gathered like collecting cuts and bruises on his already battered body. He was done fighting, just for a couple more minutes, with Loki right there with him. He hadn’t lost anyone. Not yet. 

Silence, gradually reached, filled with hope and a bone-deep exhaustion. They close their eyes for a few moments, until Loki stands and pulls the other to him. Tony’s head sagged on the other’s shoulder. Still awake and having more energy, Loki carries Tony with an arm under his knees and the other under the man’s back. 

He walks to the cabin, where two cots are set. Placing the sleeping human down first, he wars with himself and decides, he waves away the other cot. _‘What was a bit of skin-ship and close quarters between good friends. If only to emphasize how great their compatibility. Attempts of courting included, of course._

Applying some restraint, the sorcerer places himself close to Tony within touching distance, but does not wrap himself around the sleeping man, much as he’d like to. Resting just for a moment, Loki breathes deep, his senses sharpened and focused on the presence of Tony; ready to dispel any fears or disrupt any nightmares that might appear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long to post. I just kept editing. And editing. I actually have more, but I'd still like to look them over thoroughly before posting. Hopefully this is up to snuff. Big thanks to my wonderful readers, kodus-givers, bookmarkers, subscribers, commenters. You all know who you are. ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don your mourning clothes.

The intercom sounds from the cockpit with a call to inform the two passengers that they were one hour away from arriving to their destination. 

Well-rested and unwilling to part from his cool pillow, Tony rubs his face into it as it rises and falls, breathing. Tony mumbles, a bit coherently, to said pillow, “Why’re ya moving?” 

Surprisingly, the pillow answers in a familiar English voice, “I’m not moving. I’m sleeping. Rest. We still have some time before we must depart.” The pillow reaffirms this by placing a hand on his head and gently stroking long fingers through his soft wavy hair.

“Mrrmhh.” Which Loki has understood to be Tony’s own version of a purr. 

His pillow responds with a chest-rumbling chuckle, causing Tony’s head to go along with the movement, which then leads to the brunette’s state of awakening. Eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, Tony scrambles back from where he’d been laying. 

Loki sighs at the loss of the shorter man’s hardly noticeable but still comfortable mass in his arms. The sorcerer sits up to observe his companion’s, no doubt, adorable response.

Tony’s mouth opens and closes three times before his expression turns into a reprimanding pout. For which he receives a widely, amused and mischievous smile. Finding the man’s gall, unbelievable and hilarious, Tony snorts in response and wipes the side of his mouth. “How much time till we’re there?”

“Your pilot announced that we had an hour left.” Blatantly staring at Tony’s fairly rumpled and unkempt state, Loki licks his lips and smirks. “Hmm. Though I do believe there’s no need for you to change. Then again, I’d rather not let others see you the same way I do.” 

In a dead pan voice: “Ha, ha. Hilarious.” Tony smacks Loki’s arm in retaliation and starts walking to the bathroom. “I feel like crap and would rather not feel or look like crap when I meet Aunt Peggy’s family for the first time. Just a quick refreshing shower.” 

“Shall I ready your clothes?” Loki calls in an overly emphasized British accent, mimicking the intonations of a butler that Tony had once shown him from a television show about a nanny from Queens suddenly working for a rich Englishman with three children. He’d found the butler’s sarcasm and rude attitude entertaining. 

Closing the door, Tony answers with a muffled voice, “No! I don’t wanna look like a Ralph Lauren cover model when I’m greeting a mourning family. Could you dress a little more ‘somberly’ too, Lokes? I’d appreciate it.” 

“If you insist.” Recalling Tony’s lack of a sure answer from their discussion before the nap, Loki can’t help but ask through the barrier separating them, “Do you acknowledge my feelings for you?” 

Tony was about to turn the handle in the shower when he heard Loki’s muffled voice. He grits his teeth and moves his jaw in an up and down motion, making a rapid clicking noise reminiscent to the sound of typing keys. Looking at his reflection, Tony observes the tired lines around his eyes, his mouth. Hollow and haggard, but looking better than after the meeting with Ross. He relaxes his jaw and watches his mouth move, silently speaking. Sighing through his nose; finally, he answers: “I do.” 

Voicing words unsaid, “I’m sensing a ‘but’?” 

Covering his eyes and running his hand down his face, Tony walks closer to the door. 

“But... I’m not really... I might be a genius- with a lot of things, like the practicalities in math, physics. Sciences. I even know some literature, if it catches enough of my attention. But emotionally, I know I’m more closely related to Data, an android from Star Trek: New Gen, which we should watch, by the way. Probably even less than Spock, a Vulcan who is constantly trying to suppress his own emotions, otherwise he’d be more volatile and less rational. Seriously, I look up to that Vulcan and Leonard Nimoy for a reason... Anyway, whoo. Getting a little off track. My bad. ‘Cuz you know I’m still- you know- from Pepper to everything. Jarvis, the human and the AI, was the closest person to really getting me and how my systems are wired. I don’t know if- And all that’s happening now- uh, it’s just. I don’t even know if I can...” 

Allowing the inventor to properly vent, Loki made sure to give the man as much room to speak as he wanted. Noticing the extended silence, he says, “Despite the fact that your response is not at all a complete thought or linear in its expression, I understand.” 

Tony thumps his forehead to the door and isn’t surprised to hear a similar but quieter thump follow from the other side. “You do?” 

Loki keeps his eyes on the door. “I do.” 

Tony quirks an eyebrow up and says, “Okay? Now _I’m_ hearing a ‘but’.” 

A smirk on his face, Loki answers, “ _But_ ~ I refuse to give up.” 

“Give up?” 

“On you. _Us._ Yes, we’re friends and I am ever grateful for it, but I’ll show you that anything more between us is nothing short of perfection.” 

Stunned, Tony simply stares balefully at the door. 

“I won’t force anything untoward on you, of course. But I will no longer hide my affections for you, whether in private or in public.” 

“Uh-” 

“You’re welcome to try reasoning with me, but know that I have my own rebuttals ready. As you said earlier, my tongue is worth more than silver. Take note that my telling you this is my own means of asking permission rather than forgiveness, as it is the better option in most circumstances.” 

Tony let’s Loki’s words sink in. _‘Oh my god. He’s serious. The fuck am I supposed to say without sounding like more of an ass, already?... But would it really be so bad?’_

Clearing his throat, his voice gains some authority, “Technically, the saying goes ‘better to ask forgiveness than permission’. And anyway, I can’t-” A breath. “No, I won’t stop you. I know it wouldn’t work, and you’d somehow start some courting ritual that turns out to be a Vulcan mind meld on steroids.” He walks back to the shower and starts the water. 

“I’d ask you to cease your repetitions of these Star Trek references, but considering the length of time spent with you having me view it, I cannot see that happening.” Loki huffs his laughter with a breath and his smile alights brilliantly, illuminating the room even more than the overhead lights positioned for that purpose. 

****

Ned Abrams was a man who’d lived through the second world war. Trapped behind a Hydra blockade, he and his fellow soldiers were ready to die or be tortured as POWs, but Captain America freed them. Saved them. Later on, he was even lucky enough to fall in love and get married with a gorgeous, spit fire named Peggy Carter. He might have been a pilot for one of those Spitfire engines, but Peggy didn’t need a pilot to steer her. She had her own course set, and he was right there with her every step of the way, as support or just to be her copilot. 

She had the brains to collect any of those pig-headed nay-sayers thinking that there was no room for a woman to stand in a man’s world, especially in government. But she proved them wrong... with a little help from Howard.

Sometimes, he worried about the day that Peggy would leave him for the more affluent man. Those two were peas in a pod when it came to bullheadedness, but it was this same trait that he felt some comfort in. They were ready to conquer the world one government head at a time until they finally built S.H.I.E.L.D. together. However, even in their successes, their mulish thoughts would carry into the smallest little details causing arguments to grow into shouting matches. 

Ned carried a guilty conscience finding solace in these squabbles, because he knew that these two needed each other in ways that he couldn’t provide. He had his own misgivings being the husband of Peggy Carter, who he knew had a connection with Captain America. How a regular man like him could compare, he didn’t know and he tried not to let it show. And now, here was another man -handsome, charismatic, bold- who could match Peggy wit for wit. For every exchange they had, it only revealed how well-matched they were to the point of their persistent tension. When that tension snapped the strings of their relationship, to unravel like so much torn rope, he felt no joy in seeing her tears. Hearing her anger, her sadness, and her loss. It was a painful reminder of his helplessness. In some ways, he blamed Howard for getting lost in his glass, his business, and his ego. For having a close enough relationship with Peggy that he had an affect on her life.

But Ned couldn’t blame him entirely. He didn’t know the man from Adam, but he did know a bit about the man’s son, Anthony. 

Settling down in the living room with their children Steve and Agatha playing near the fireplace, Peggy would enter into a pensive silence. At his inquiry of her thoughts, she would turn to him with wet eyes and speak of her nephew, not by blood but by choice. A intelligent and gentle boy with the inquisitive nature ready to see the world for all it had to offer and ready to find some way to build it up, make it better. He was also a boy desperate for love, from what little Howard offered him, or so Peggy said.

The same ‘nephew’ that Peggy had lamented over now stood before him. A grown adult fidgeting like a ten-year old ready for a scolding.

Ned raised one eyebrow in question as he stood at his open door, observing the two men. One tall with sharp features and bright green eyes, and the other a shorter brunette with handsome looks and honey-brown eyes, made brighter by the sun shining its light -an occurrence not usually common in London. He knew that the brunette was Anthony because he was a near mirror image of Howard, except for his eyes. They were softer, more vulnerable, the exact same way that Peggy had described them to be. She had wanted him to meet Tony someday, but it would have been better if she’d have still been around to introduce them. None of this awkward business of is he or isn’t he or how should they talk of the one they loved, a person who’d played the role of a wife, an aunt - to them, respectively. He hoped that with everything they’d lived through, he had given her a life worth living as his wife, like she’d done for him as her husband. 

He observed how the unknown man stood by Anthony’s shoulder, as if ready to keep him from any harm that should come to him or to simply offer comfort without forcing it upon another. The man’s green eyes seemed to keenly observe his own dark brown and Anthony’s reactions, but was unwilling to interfere. _‘A friend? No. I’d know the eyes of a man in love, anywhere.’_

“Yes?” Ned asked. Best not to jump to any conclusions. Though his formerly traditional Jewish upbringing would frown upon it, Ned recognized that times had changed and people were people in love or not. Who was he to say who’s right or wrong when he still questioned himself throughout his long life.

Tony straightened his back and faced his Aunt Peggy’s husband without blinking, much. _‘Why the fuck did I take off my sunglasses. Shit. Shit. shit. shit! Don’t panic. Be cool. Should’ve followed Bruce’s example and smoked a bag of weed. Or just gotten a drink. Fuck! No. No relapsing. Breathe and-’_

Tony clears his throat and answers, “Hi! Hello. Um- Well, you’ve never met me before and I’ve never met you either. I just wanted to ask if I could be there at Aunt Peggy’s- I mean, Margaret Carter’s funeral. Maybe help with the preparations or help pay for any of the-” 

Ned holds up a hand to stop Tony’s rambling. 

With his own dark eyes looking into Tony’s, he knew that this was the same nephew that Peggy had fawned over. Had loved as much as family. Kindly, he said: “Thank you. Did you know that Peggy talked of her little nephew ‘Tonio’? Every once in a while, something would just remind her of you and she’d say your name with every bit of sadness and joy, as any complex relationships could form with a Stark, except Maria, but then again, she was a Carbonell first.” 

As he’d listened, Tony couldn’t hold back a quiet sob at the familiar nickname. He thought he’d lost the last living person to ever call him that name. With one hand, he moved to cover his mouth but was stopped when Ned moved forward. 

Gentle, as if treating any of his children when they’d fall into a state of melancholy, he reached out a wrinkled and calloused hand. Both arms opened, he nudged Tony to him. 

Enveloped in a comforting embrace with this virtual stranger, Tony sobbed into this man’s shoulder. The man’s scent containing some lingering fragrance of the same perfume that his Aunt Peggy favoured with a mix of subtle cologne and a mild tobacco. Tony raised his hands to clutch at the strong arms holding him, reminding him so much of Jarvis and his aunt in the form of one person. 

His face positioned over the shorter man’s head, Ned said: “Peggy wanted us to meet, but she hadn’t wished to bother you. What with the fate of the world and saving it.” Ned’s own voice cracked as he spoke. 

Through his light sobs and muffled by a soldier’s shoulder, “If she’d asked, I would have come. And please, call me Tony or Tonio.” 

Ned sighed, relieved, that this boy who looked so much like his father was not entirely his carbon copy. “That’s good. And thank you for loving my wife as if she were your own family, Tonio. She felt the same about you.” A gentle pat on the back had Tony stepping back, only to be halted by the hand still on his shoulder. Kind eyes met those red-rimmed with tears, “Peggy and I would love to have you be a part of the proceedings. As for the money-” Ned raised a single finger to end any arguments. “Ah! We don’t need it. Or want it. I know my wife and I’m sure she’d flick your ear if you so much as paid for a single thing. All we want from you, Tonio, is your presence.” 

Tony nods and smiles down at the ground in memory. 

Ned gestures into his house, “Now, why don’t you and your friend come in. We can talk about Peggy and reminisce. I could even fill in a few things if you’re curious to hear any stories. Do you have a place to stay here in London?” 

Walking forward, Tony turns back to Loki, remembering his friend. 

Loki tilts his head in question and follows Tony at the nod. 

“We have a hotel.” 

Ned clicks his tongue, “Tsk. No, no. My own nephew can’t be staying in a hotel when I’ve got room in the house for more.” 

“Oh. Uh, what about your kids?” 

“They don’t live too far from here and won’t be coming till tomorrow. We have two days until the funeral. Let’s get to know each other. Help me plan a few things.” 

Unsure whether a refusal might be construed as an insult, Tony accepts. 

Loki realizes that his presence should be that of an observer, at this moment. That is, until Ned speaks. 

“You too, stranger. I want to know all that’s been going on in my nephew’s life. And keeping Peggy’s stories about you to heart, I’m sure I’ll get to hear more from another’s perspective.” Ned winks at the two men in response. He might have been an old man, but he’d seen that same look on his face in the mirror everyday that he tried to ask Peggy out for dinner. 

Both men glance at each other and look away quickly, painfully aware of their reddening cheeks but unable to act without being noticed under the sharp eyes of the former World War II pilot. 

****

The Cathedral is large and grand. Painted glass windows depicting scenes of Biblical stories, the pews made of solid wood, and the altar cleared to provide space. The room is well-maintained, the glass windows shining different shades of coloured light upon the waxed and lacquered wooden pews and walls. People gathered, a collection achieved through years of a long, fulfilled life by one Margaret Carter. Her husband, stands tired from time with the same strength that he’d gained from the war. A man as tall as six-feet with a head full of white hair, cut military short wearing his old military uniform. The same uniform that he’d first met Peggy in when she’d come to greet the rescued POWs.

The random mix of civilians or government-affiliated people in the room are donned in black. Ivory calla lilies decorate each vase at the corners of each row of pews, adding some life yet caring solemnity in their pure elegance. 

On the day of the funeral, Steve walks down the aisle as one of the pallbearers. Peggy’s husband, whom he’d met just yesterday, offered him the role. He was just grateful to have some involvement in it. Peggy was a part of his old life and now all he had left as Steve Rogers, before Captain America, was Bucky- and the Avengers, maybe Tony, if indirectly involved. 

Eyes wet, Steve fought to keep the strength in his face visible. To hide away, he faces forward, resolute. His gaze does not wander far from the altar. The weight of the casket both light and heavy in their contents and meaning, but he bears it without complaint. What room does he have to speak in the presence of the lifeless body that had once housed the soul of his first love. 

After fulfilling his role, he sits back in his seat. At the nudge to his shoulder, he turns to Sam, who’d decided to accompany him not only as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent but also a friend. He’s not completely alone in this moment, at least. _‘Ned seems like a nice guy. But what am I supposed to say, “Hey there, I was sweet on Peggy during the war. Thought about making her my girl, if she’d take me as her fella. We were supposed to go dancing, but I crashed on a plane with her picture in my Dad’s pocket watch. I was talking to her as I watched the ice come closer and told her that when I came back, I’d give her that dance. Even if I’d never even done it before” And, now, I’m meeting you for the first time because she’s dead. Yeah. That’d go real swell.’_ He thinks with a heavy does of self-recriminating cynicism

Before Steve could get mired in his misery, he felt Sam nudge him again. Stopping himself from snapping at his friend, he turns to where Sam is pointing. 

The pulpit stood next to the altar, overlooking the sanctuary. The location providing ample control over the acoustics of the room. Steve goggled at the fact that not only was Agent 13 standing by ready to speak, but Tony along with Ned Abrams, as well as his and Peggy’s now grown children were all standing behind the casket representing themselves as the immediate family of the deceased. Steve turns to Sam in the hopes of gaining some insight into the situation and is answered with a shrug, an action as informative as being told the obvious. 

Agent 13, Sharon, starts speaking, * “... And she said, ‘Compromise where you can. Where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye, and say, 'No, *you* move'."

The words spoken by Sharon infused with Peggy’s words ring in Steve’s ears, and he feels a sense of rightness in them. Even after her passing, Peggy was still talking some sense into him. Steve feels his heart swell and his principles centered, so he looks at Tony, who’s eyes only look at the casket.

With the last words spoken by the priest, the Carter family and Tony move down and to the side of the casket to greet the other mourners after they’ve paid their respects. As the majority of the people move forward in the line, Sam having gone early so he could get back to the hotel, Steve waits after everyone has passed, even the Carter family dwindling to only Ned and Tony.

Wiping his damp palms on his pants, Steve stands from his seat, apparently, at the same time as another man who’d been sitting in the pew across from his. Green meets blue, but both dismiss one another without a second thought. That is, until they both begin to walk in the same direction. Again, they pause to take stock of one another, but the green-eyed stranger recovers faster and takes long steps, while Steve keeps a more sedate pace, still somewhat uncomfortable with Peggy’s husband. 

The stranger, taller than him by a few inches, stops by Tony’s side and rests a hand on the engineer’s shoulder, while nodding at Ned. His progress halts at seeing the casual exchange and the hand that Tony hasn’t shrugged off. Steve stopping in his tracks catches the eye of Ned, who calls him over. 

“Captain.” Ned nods with a deep respect. 

Steve nods back with a stilted gesture. “Ned. Just Steve is fine.” His smile more of a grimace. 

Ned waves a hand to him. This brings Tony’s attention, who immediately stiffens at seeing the Captain. 

Tony greets, “Hey, Cap.”

Loki eyes the man out of time warily. He continues to stand by Tony, not removing his hand from the brunette. 

Steve catches his stutter at the other’s acknowledgement and holds on to the clarity he gained from hearing Peggy’s words in Sharon’s speech. His smiling grimace present, he says, “Tony! I didn’t know you and Peggy were related.” The last sentence spoken as a question with the hint of an accusation, Steve’s brows furrowed. 

Knowing the question was coming, Tony quirks his mouth and shrugs the shoulder without Loki’s hand on it. “Aunt Peggy and I aren’t related by blood. But she was- _is_ my aunt in all the ways that count. ” 

Humbled, Steve looks down, but doesn’t fight his smile. “That’s... That’s awesome.” He looks up to meet Tony’s eyes, meaning every word.

Tony answers with a smile that reaches his eyes. “Yeah, it is. And ‘awesome’? Look at you Cap, catching the lingo. What happened to ‘swell’?” He teases. It was nice to share some happiness over a person they both loved.

Steve shakes his head and, if possible, smiles wider at Tony. 

Though he may no longer be an active army pilot, Ned’s eyes can catch the subtle nuance of chemistry dancing between the two men. Glancing back at Mr. Friggson, he’s unsurprised at the glower the man is sporting. Attempting to clear the air, he starts to clear his throat but is interrupted by the echo of clicking heels coming closer to their gathered group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long! Real life was torturing me, but this post is a sign that I've survived my ordeal. Hope you all enjoy! (continues to work on the next chapters)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it's still in the church. And a few other characters come in to play. Everything will be completely okay (not if I have say about it... probably).
> 
> Also, I don't know German that well, except for the fact that there's a High German and Swiss German. So if it's italicized, they're supposedly speaking High German (I don't trust Google Translate that much).

A man named Bert, short for Adalbert, sits in his suburban house. Outwardly average and unassuming with no need for a second glance, except for what secrets his house holds. The man idly reads through a magazine until a series of particularly patterned knock-knock is heard. Confusion at the presence of the knock, but acknowledging the proper code, the door is opened.

 

“Hello.” Bert starts and waits.

 

“Hello and good day to you, sir. Pardon the sudden appearance, but the company called for me at eight and told me to check on the premises. You know how it is with machines. Whichever leg stops functioning needs to be replaced.” The newcomer states with an easy smile. 

 

“Of course.” Bert pales and immediately gestures for the man to come in. 

 

The newcomer, a man, has some slight stubble decorating his face with styled hair, organized to have no strand out of place. He looks at his surroundings with a scrutinizing eye and listens with one ear as the door closes and locks behind him.

 

Bert, nervous but still aware of his role, clears his throat in askance.

 

At the noise, the newcomer gestures without turning around to address the other.

 

Bert speaks in high German: “ _Sir, I do not mean to cast suspicion—_ “

 

“ _I’d be more worried if you didn’t._ ”

 

“ _But- that is— I was not informed of any incoming visits._ ”

 

“ _There’s good reason for that, Colonel Adalbert. And it is because, I told them not to._ ”

 

At the cavalier statement, Bert’s eyes widen in recognition of the status his guest must carry. “Of course, sir— umm, how may I address you?”

 

“Sir is fine. But Baron Zemo would be more accurate. It seems a personal touch is required when it comes to retrieving what we’ve lost.” The man offers a toothless smile.

 

****  


Natasha wasn’t surprised to see Steve or Tony lingering after most of the mourners had left. But she wasn’t expecting the stranger next to Tony. Looking closely at his face, he seemed somewhat familiar, so she decided to keep a close eye on him.

 

The red head offers a toothless smile at the group. “Steve. Tony.” Each treated with a sincere smile tinged with sympathy. “Mr. Abrams. Natasha Romanoff.” She holds her hand out to the mourning man and the two shake hands without lingering. “My condolences to you and your family. Without Margaret Carter, there really wouldn’t be a Shield today.”

 

Ned accepts the words with an effortless collectedness. Stalwart and calm, even in unpleasant or emotionally charged situations, a characteristic that had drawn Peggy’s eye from the start. 

 

“Thank you, Miss Romanoff.” 

 

Sensing that some ‘Avengers’ business was about to be conducted, he excuses himself, “It’s been a pleasure. All of you. But the day has taken its toll on me, and it’s time I went back.” He makes eye contact with Tony and Loki, “The two of you are welcome to visit or stay, any time. Don’t be a stranger, ‘Tonio’. And Mr. Friggson, I hope to see you again.” He hugs Tony and Loki goodbye.

 

Tony lingers a bit and backs a step, clearing his throat. His tears not falling but present in the corners of his eyes.

 

Unsurprisingly, Loki and Ned had enjoyed discussing Tony’s exploits from the stories that Peggy had shared about a younger Tony, as well as the more jocular and light-hearted incidents that the man found himself in as an adult. Helpless in the face of such an amicable onslaught, Tony only shook his head and smiled at the men. 

 

Once in a while, he and Ned would linger over their memories of Peggy, leaving Loki to observe. 

 

And when Loki and Ned were alone, Ned had clearly stated that should Loki cause any form of harm on Tony, then the man could never run far enough to escape. Loki accepted the threat/promise without argument and began to ask the man of how best he could court Tony. Ned laughed and told him of his own experiences with trying to catch Peggy’s romantic notice. 

 

Ned smiles gently at his nephew. Turning to Captain America, he holds out a hand and the two grip firmly but briefly. “Captain.” At the raised eyebrow he receives, Ned amends: “Steve.” To Miss Romanoff, he shakes her hand professionally once more. He walks to the entrance and is surprised to find that another person had decided to linger. A lean and handsome man, with a closely shaved head and dark skin like the color of fresh coffee beans standing with perfect posture. He knew military personnel like the back of his own hand. 

 

Pausing, Ned asks, “Friendly?”

 

The other man smiles and says, “Friend of Tony’s. Doesn’t really know I’m here, yet.”

 

Not too surprised by it and knowing that Mr. Friggson or ‘Loke’ would protect Tony should there be a problem, Ned responds: “Much as I’d like to question you, I’m not entirely surprised of the fact that Tony’s friends would resort to espionage.”

 

The other man shrugs and smiles wider, revealing white teeth. “Yeah. That’s Tony, alright. The name is James Rhodes. Or Rhodey, as Tony’s dubbed me. My condolences, Mr. Abrams. It’s good to know that Tony’s got more family he can turn to.” He holds out his hand.

 

Knowing his perceptive talents in judging one’s character, Ned takes the hand and pulls the man, Rhodes, into a one armed hug. “That’s all I needed to hear. You might need to interfere with that circle over there. Something tells me, peace is not something easily maintained with such a charged atmosphere.” 

 

Rhodey nods his head and starts to make his way down the aisle. 

 

****

 

The friendly ambiance disappeared in light of the suspicious air that Natasha carried and aimed at Loki. A suspicion that apparently had the ability to spread like an infection to super soldiers. 

 

As Steve and Natasha eye Loki’s new form, Tony takes his own glance at Loki, impressed at the other’s neutral facade. 

 

Natasha steps forward with an insouciant smile on her face, and asks in a low voice: “Hi, there. You know my name now, but I don’t know yours.”

 

“If that was meant to be a question, I suggest you rephrase it, so that the question mark is made audible.” Loki retorts back with a sickeningly sweet innocence and a raised brow.

 

Trying to keep the situation from escalating, Tony attempts to step between the intense glares but is stopped when an arm wraps around his waist, not tight but very noticeable. Looking back at Loki, he’s met with a sincere smile sent his way.

 

Steve and Natasha simultaneously raise their own singular eyebrows at the exchange. If he’d seen it, Tony would laugh his head off at the twinning happening before him.

 

Loki removes the smile from his face and aims a polite mien to the two interlopers. He holds out his available hand, not reaching for them but allowing them to move closer should they choose. “Loke Friggson, how do you do?”

 

Natasha reaches out perfunctorily and without a second to spare retrieves her hand. 

 

Obviously uncomfortable, Steve dons his Captain persona. The two shake hands and begin to grip tightly, to the point that if it had been any normal man’s hand the appendage would most likely break, which only leads to an increased sense of suspicion. “Pretty good grip. You a friend of the family, Mr. Friggson?”

 

“I’m with Tony. He wanted me to meet his other relatives.” Loki turns his polite smile into a smirk. 

 

Steve’s glare transforms into a glower. “Uh-huh. How come we’d never heard of you before then?” 

 

Loki tuts the man like a nanny would to a recalcitrant child. “What need should his personal life have to encounter his professional?” 

 

“We’ve gone through a lot together as Avengers. Enough that we’re a lot more than just ‘coworkers’.” 

 

Loki’s eyes narrow, “Hmph. So you say.” Doubtful.

 

Before Steve can retort, Natasha clears her throat, while Tony coughs into his hand. The two men release their tight grip on the other’s and distance themselves. Steve with a rising flush and deeper glower, while Loki’s countenance becomes more frigid. 

 

Giving two soft pats to Loki’s chest, Tony says, “Loke, these guys are my friends. You know, Avengers.” Tony pretends a placating voice, hoping that Steve and Natasha will simply ignore Loki’s attitude as that of a stereotypical rich gentleman, instead of the actual contempt that he carries for them.

 

Loki captures the inventor’s hand absent-mindedly in a brief hold and inwardly smirks at the further furrowing of the Captain’s brow. Recalling a news channel that he’d been able to purview through Tony’s tablet, Loki aims an exaggerated moue at the two and adjusts the hand around Tony. “Oh, yes. I wondered where I’d seen your faces. You were on the news this morning.” He shakes his head, faux sad. “So many dead and injured.” A sigh. “And to hear that you have to answer for your actions. Truly a terrible business, those events in Lagos. What on earth were you doing there, if you don’t mind my asking?”

 

Knowing what the Trickster was up to, Tony elbowed him hard in the ribs. Loki, hardly affected, moves his hand from the shorter man’s waist to the small of his back as a form of compliance.

 

However, Natasha and Steve had already become coiled with tension. Masks of rigidity worn to protect their turmoil of emotions. Natasha more successful than Steve, since the Captain’s mien has only become more stubborn and angry. 

 

Steve answers, “That’s not any of your business.” His voice dark, promising violence. 

 

Natasha places her hand on Steve’s forearm, where a fist is already tightened at the ready. “Sorry, classified.” Her tone unapologetic. 

 

Loki tilts his head, backing off. But that doesn’t keep the smug sense of satisfaction from growing at unbalancing the Captain and the Widow. He will take his victories where he can. 

 

Tony only looks at the others with an internal shake of his head and turns his eyes to the ceiling, asking for some form of salvation.

 

Before things could turn more complicated, a friendly voice greets them. 

 

Pleasantly surprised, Tony wears a grin bearing confusion but still welcoming, “Rhodey?”

 

“Hey, Tones. Steve, Natasha, and...?” Rhodey asks, eyeing the man who is standing in Tony’s space.

 

Knowing the Lieutenant Colonel as his love’s best friend, Loki’s mien becomes warmer. “Loke Friggson, but as Tony’s best friend, please. Call me, Loke.” He offers his hand and is unsurprised to be met with a polite but otherwise distant handshake. 

 

“Rhodey!” Tony goes over to his best friend in the the whole, wide immenseness of theuniverses ( _because he acknowledges the possible reality of other universes and worlds, Loki_ ) and gives him a solid hug that’s returned. The two hold on for a bit longer, with the older patting the brunette’s back consolingly. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Tones.” 

 

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

 

Rhodey is silent at first, he looks around at the others and moves back from Tony. Addressing everybody in the room, except Tony, he says: “Excuse us for a bit.” 

 

With that short phrase, the Lieutenant Colonel uses the hand on the brunette’s shoulder to guide them closer to the far wall, enough distance from a super soldier or a spy assassin to not hear their words, but not far enough from a Norse god. Loki ignores the two Shield agents/Avengers. 

 

Facing Tony and making sure that the shorter’s lips could not be read, Rhodey dons a stern look: “You should’ve called me, man. Instead, I’ve got Happy freaking out about you flying off with some guy you’ve never even mentioned before.” As he speaks, Rhodes puts some space between him and Tony but holds on to the shorter’s shoulders. Trying to show how much worry, the billionaire’s actions incited.

 

Guilty and slightly annoyed at the slight overprotectiveness. “I wonder if you and Hap even recognize that I am a grown man, you know.” Tony pouts at Rhodey and steps back only to be pulled to the colonel for one more brief hug. “Yeah, yeah. Everything was okay. Loke and I have been talking for months, actually.”

 

Being War Machine and a best friend to Tony Stark, Rhodey responds accordingly with raised brows and crossed arms. “Okay, then how come you never told me or Pepper or Happy about him?” 

 

While Tony and Rhodes are conversing, the other three people in the church look at one another in an assessing manner. Natasha maintains a neutral and distant expression, while Steve’s brow is furrowed deeply with confusion, anger, and doubts. Loki, on the other hand, continues to convey his blatant lack of interest in the other two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. 

 

 

****

 

In the basement of a nondescript house in suburbia, Baron Zemo peruses a hand-sized, red notebook adorned with a star on its cover.

 

As Bert walks down the steps, Zemo says aloud: “My father was a scientist. Unlike, Arnim Zola, he was better known in producing chemical, technological— engineering based innovations. In fact, he helped develop the same machine and bionic arm utilized to maintain our dear Winter Soldier. What do you think of that, Colonel?”

 

Bert clears his throat. “Truly remarkable, Baron.”

 

Zemo smiles benignly, “It is, isn’t it.” He studies the notes and silently practices them.

 

_Mission date: December 1991. The sound of crackling electricity as it travels through metal into the human brain. Burning and healing, in unequal measure._

 

_(Longing.)           Sehnsucht_

_(Rusted.)            verrostet_

_(Seventeen.)       Siebzehn_

_(Daybreak.)        Tagesanbruch_

_(Furnace.)          Ofen_

_(Nine.)               Neun_

_(Benign.)            Gütig_

_(Homecoming.)   Heimkehr_

_(One.)                Eins_

_(Freight car.)      Güterwaggon_

 

 

_(“Good morning, soldier.”)        "Guten Morgen, Soldat"_

 

_(“Ready to comply.”).               "Bereit zum Einsatz"_

 

 

 

****

 

A standoff better associated at high noon in any remote dust-ridden town of the North American MidWest, is occurring in the unlikely locale of a church’s aisle in London. Instead of mano y mano, it seems to be two against one.

 

With the atmosphere gradually turning hostile and uncomfortable, each person begins to open their mouths at the same time only to pause and close down.

 

Natasha clears her throat, while Steve maintains his glare at Loki. Loki, being the little shit that he is, maintains an unaffected yet polite smile.

 

Since both men seem preoccupied with their if-looks-could-kill battle, Natasha quickly defuses the situation by directing a sweet but vacant smile at Loki. “Well, Mr. Friggson. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, but the Captain and I have some business to attend to.”

 

“I’m sure. Good day to you, both.” And with that benign statement, Loki nods as the two others walk out the door into the front foyer. Slightly interested in what information could be gained from their private conversation, Loki splits his hearing to hear the Captain and the Spider, as well as Tony and Rhodes.

 

**

**Natasha & Steve**

 

“How are you holding up?”

 

“I appreciate that you didn’t ask me if I was okay or alright.”

 

“Glad I could help.”

 

“…When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known at that time was gone. Then I found out that she was alive. I was just lucky to have her.”

 

*“She had you back, too.”

 

“I’m pretty lucky to have Tony, too. And the Avengers. Our team…” Sighs, then glances at Natasha. *“Who else signed?”

 

  * “Tony, Rhodey, Vision.” 



 

  * “Clint?”



 

  * “Says he's retired.” 



 

  * “Wanda?”



 

  * “TBD.” (To Be Determined)



 

“And you?”

 

“I’m off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords. There's plenty of room on the jet…”

 

Steve sighs and bows his head.

 

“Just because it's the path of least resistance doesn't mean it's the wrong path. Staying together is more important than how we stay together.”

 

* “What are we giving up to do it?” He shakes his head, unconvinced. “I'm sorry, Nat. I can't sign it.”

 

* “I know.” A twist of her lips.

 

* “Then what are you doing here?”

 

* “I didn't want you to be alone. Come here.” She puts her arms around him and hugs him tightly, patting his back all the while. 

 

“Thanks, Nat.”

 

**

 

**Tony & Rhodey**

 

“Um… Well, ya’ see. What had happened was-“

 

“Tones!”

 

“Oh my g- Okay. Rhodey. Honeybear. Apple of my-“

 

“Come on, man! Why haven’t you told us about this guy? And don’t you roll your eyes at me. Otherwise, I’m telling my mom on you.” 

 

“…You’re lucky I love and fear Mama Rhodes equally.” A heavier pout, then an exhaled breath. “Fine! There’s no need for the crossed arms of disappointment, so just…” Tony gestures at Rhodes, “put them down.”

 

“Okay. They’re down. Now, answer me.”

 

“… It’s just… Everything just piled up. Before- You know with the- Nightmares. The bad guys. And then my recent shitty shitty bang bang with Ultron… And you guys. You, Happy, Pepper, and Jarvis and the bots. But- I get the feeling that it really was all on me-“

 

“Hey-“

 

“Rhodey just- I’m gonna use my words, so you gotta- Thanks. Alright. Actually, not. Not alright… It wasn’t like it was a surprise. Pepper and I were rocky since the whole Avengers-thing started. Iron Man.” Tony shrugs. “I had this handful of people that were mine. They were mine, and I was theirs. Then I started losing them… Don’t interrupt, please.” His voice cracks. “Jarvis was gone.” A cleared throat. “Vision was born. Ultron killed people. I made Ultron, and Pepper was gone. Not really all in that order-“

 

“Yeah. I’m just-… Tony, listen to me. The stuff about Ultron. I might not have been there, but if I know you— and I do— the only reason he was around is because you got to see what was out there. I didn’t, man. But I’ve been to war. I’ve fought and seen some of the worst ways to die, but I always remember that all the fighting I’ve done was with people. Humans. You saw things that some of the best scientists in the world didn’t even know existed until Thor, the Norse god of Thunder!” His voice pitches high at the incredulity of the idea. “Came crashing into our orbit and turned out to be some advanced alien race. I don’t blame you for having the common sense and survival instinct to be afraid. You hearing me, Tones?”

 

“I- Yeah. Yeah, I hear you. I’ll work on hearing you more, Rhodey.”

 

“Yeah, you will.” Rhodey grips Tony’s shoulder. “Good. Sorry to interrupt.” 

 

The corner of Tony’s mouth ticks upwards. “It was… good.” Cough. “So. Right! Lo. Err, Loke. I gave him a nickname.”

 

“Why am I not surprised.” Fondly exasperated.

 

“Shush. Anyway… I was in a really bad place. Horrendously horrible headspace. Might have had a few relapses after the breakup, but nothing long-term. Not like it was then.” Good thing he and Loki and re-hashed and re-vamped a very plausible story to explain the more public-friendly version of their story. “Loke and I— we just met. You know that little bakeshop I like to visit? It’s near the mansion, because I’d moved since the Tower was pretty beat… Sorry, digressing. Ugh, we just started talking. And before you freak out about stranger-danger, I’d already had Fri check him, so he’s clean. Kinda got a mean-streak for people he doesn’t like, and a sharp-tongue, and ironic-slash-morbid sense of humor. Also rich. He’s smart too, a mix of book and street.” 

 

“Kinda like you, but more British.” 

 

“Exactly! That and he was new. I didn’t have to worry about him leaving me the second I unloaded, since I didn’t have those ties that I do with you guys. It was just common interest and talking. Sometimes for hours—and drinking tea— about all this deep stuff without worrying if the other was judging so hard since our stories were too similar. We were already our own worst critics. A couple months passed, and we became or are close. He was there, and-“ 

 

“We could've been there, too-“

 

“No. No you couldn’t have. Not you or Hap. You guys. I-You know I…I love you guys, right? Well, I just didn’t want to lose you. I’d already lost two. I wasn’t willing to risk it. We were all busy, and I don’t blame any of you for not always being available at my beck and call. But Loke… Somehow— Intrinsically, when we were at our lowest- if we didn’t meet, then we’d just remember those moments when we talked. I’m not saying I’m cured, but when we’re together…” 

  
A deep breath. “I get it. I mean— Actually, yeah. Yes. I can see that, he’s good fo- to you…. Should I take it that you guys are…?” Crosses his right middle and fore finger.

 

Tony lightly scratches his cheek. “Wha- Uh, about that… We’re headed there? He asked me out on a date, but with the Accords going on.” Shrugs self-consciously. “He told me he doesn’t mind waiting.” 

 

“I approve.”

 

Sarcastically. “Wow, Rhodey… thanks.” He can’t help but smile, his eyes crinkling in relief and happiness.

 

“No worries, Tones. I know I haven’t been around as much as I should. Nope. No interruptions. It’s my turn again.”

 

Huffs fondly.

 

“You’re worth waiting for, Tony. You deserve some happiness, and I’m really glad you’ve found something or someone like it… But the second he steps out of line, I reserve the right to use War Machine on him.”

 

“Rhodey!” 

 

“No complaints. Besides, I’m the pilot and central command of War Machine. Thanks for that by the way.” He winks.

 

Tony rolls his eyes. 

 

“Now, that that’s all done. I actually just came by since it was on the way to the UN Accords Hearing, and since we’ve got time, how about you introduce me to your future boyfriend? I kinda feel bad at the earlier intro. We can hang out afterwards in a setting that’s less… formal.” 

 

“I’ll ask him.” 

 

**

 

In an attempt to seem distracted and not at all eavesdropping, Loki had pulled out his new StarkPhone to check its amenities. Since both the conversations he’d been listening into were about to end, he started to spell his phone, that it would physically alert him of any notable news in Asgard along with his own more subtle telepathic connection with his copy.

 

Of the two groups that Loki had been listening into, both Natasha and Steve were headed back into the lobby to check with their other fellow Avengers, while Rhodes and Tony were walking to Loki.

 

Reaching Loki first, Rhodes strides up to the man with a more sincere smile.

 

“Loke, right?” 

 

“Yes. And you are Mr. Rhodes.” Loki returns the smile with humor. 

 

“Rhodes is for acquaintances or coworkers. If you’re gonna keep hanging around Tony like I think you are, then you might as well call me Rhodey.” Rhodes offers his hand, but this time when their hands meet, he pulls Loki into a one-armed hug, while leaning to whisper something into the other’s ear.“You hurt him, and War Machine’s missiles will get a Loke-seeking program.” 

 

Slightly amused and humbled by the statement, Loki nods his head seriously in acquiescence. “Understood,” the trickster whispers in reply. 

 

Rhodes pulls back and meets the other’s gaze head on. He squeezes the other’s shoulder in agreement. 

 

Meanwhile, Tony looks on at two of some of the most important people in his life with a heavy weight of gratitude, while holding back a slight giggle only hinted at by the small grin he is sporting. He clears his throat: “You two done with the shotgun talk, now, or…?” 

 

The two men look back at Tony with simultaneous smiles.

 

Unfortunately the moment could only last so long by the time the two other Avengers in the room reached the three men. 

 

Natasha eyed each of them with a slightly raised brow and tilted her head, reaching her own understanding of the situation. “Boys. Sorry to interrupt, but we do have those Accords to sign.”

 

****

 

Zemo looks back at Adalbert. “Have you contacted our agents as to the whereabout of our lost asset?”

 

“Yes, sir. It’s last sighting was in Romania.”

 

Deep in thought, Zemo responds: “Romania. While we may have agents established there, simply snatching him back is much too simple.” A gleam in his eye shines, a moment of Eureka. “The Avengers, along with the wonderful information Miss Romanoff had provided at Capitol Hill. Both are annoying thorns on the side of Hydra. Why not utilize our asset, accordingly? Such as, those Accords.” Followed by a positively deviant smile. “Do you know much about it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I was trying to finish the thing in one go, but some writer's block happened, so it might be a while. If you've held on this long and you still wanna read more, I commend you. I am still planning to finish this, but it'll definitely be a wait. 
> 
> -Sincerely,  
> (now dubbed) TheWriteType
> 
> Why did I change my name? Cuz I felt like it. No, really. I just woke up and decided "You know, what..." then *wham, bam!* Thank you, maam and/or sir. 
> 
> Wish you all a good/wonderful day/night.
> 
> Big thanks to Moonlightshadow for the German translations!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will this stay civil?

Somewhere in Romania, a man sits in his open-spaced apartment filled with meager and measly belongings. The paint on the wall is peeling and similar to the color of sulfuric vomit, while the cement floor contains cracks with no discernible sense or pattern. A single mattress is placed innocuously along the wall in what could be considered as the living room, adorned with only one blanket and one pillow. What luxury is available within the apartment is made evident with a lone radio, its antennae bent to catch frequencies from music to news reports. 

All in all, a space of living decorated with a survivor’s bare necessities.

Metallic, silver shining from the sun’s reflection results in an odd slash of light patched along the wall. The metal arm moves in practiced stretches, both to ease the traumatized muscle and to loosen the tension in the person’s shoulders. 

Behind closed eyelids, rapid eye movement from left to right breaks the seeming serenity cloaked over the man’s form. 

He feels the invasive tendrils of controlled lightning passing through the bone helmet of his skull. 

He hears voices commanding attention, ordering extraction, and voicing assassination. But the voices are muffled, recognizing tone and sound rather than discerning the encrypted codes to fully unlock his memories. 

He remembers the rumble of a motorcycle traveling on gravel road. A luxury car. Two blurred, pale faces stained red. 

A girl with bright red hair, deadly and beautiful among others. She calls him _Yasha_. 

A diminutive and frail boy. _Stevey_. Determined. Headstrong. Brother. Captain. Till the end of the line.

The Winter Soldier remembers. 

Bucky Barnes died more than ninety-years ago.

And Barnes and/or James opens his eyes with quick breaths as the fragments of his memory fit nonsensically like a mosaic pattern born from the shattered remains of many broken vases. 

He can’t stop the tears from falling, no more than he could forcefully put the pieces back together to become James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes again.

****

As with any city, Vienna is bustling with movement, but the large gathering of reporters and camera-persons of varying ethnicities are an eye-catching crowd surrounding the United Nations’ building. 

Considering the one-hundred and seventeen countries’ representatives present within the main conference of said building, news anchors quickly attempt to be the first to dole out live reports and eagerly wait to hound any exiting staff or dignitaries in light of such a significant political tide. 

Within the building, a Wakandan Prince stands by the large floor-to-ceiling windows to observe the room and look down upon the murder of crows [reporters] on the street below, ready to peck and prod at their remains. Hearing the name of an Avenger, he turns to see a UN staffer conversing with the Black Widow. 

As the staff is dismissed, he approaches the Avenger with steady steps and a commiserating look. T’Challa greets her: “*I suppose neither of us is used to the spotlight.”

Natasha gives her own friendly smile and responds: “*Oh, well, it's not always so flattering.”

“*You seem to be doing alright so far. Considering your last trip to Capitol Hill... I wouldn't think you would be particularly comfortable in this company.”

Purposely showing a discomfited mien, Natasha rejoinders: “*Well, I’m not.” 

The two continue their exchange, coming to an understanding that both feel the necessity of the Accords while slightly doubtful of the politics behind it. King T’Chaka includes himself in the conversation and in the following minutes, the Assembly begins in earnest. 

Tensions and convictions rise and fall in equal tandem. Each person holding a belief in their own principles; loaded down by a weight of responsibility, accountability. King T’Chaka takes the stand and offers the perspective of a world leader, a father, and a concerned citizen. Until an explosion halts all hearing, and a deafening silence overcomes the room. 

Prince T’Challa entered the room to support his father despite his own misgivings of the political hands being exchanged, and he left as King of Wakanda to carry the weight of his country on his shoulders and the dead body of his father in his arms. He rocks in place, in grief, in mourning, and in rage.

****

“Shit.” Eyes on his StarkPad, Tony exclaims as he looks on helplessly at the chaos unfolding, along with Rhodey and Loki watching over his slumped shoulders. 

“What the hell, man.” Rhodey shakes his head in dismay and horror. 

Internally, Loki responds to the event with little emotion, while wearing a worried/horrified expression. Rather than wondering about the number of casualties, the mage assesses the visible damage made available through the footage to ascertain whether the target of the bombing was intended for all the representatives or if it was meant for another purpose. 

“I’m calling Natasha. Maybe check on the C.I.A. and any of my other contacts involved with the security detail.” Rhodey states as he pulls out his phone and walks out. 

Attempting not to dwell on the dead and knowing Natasha’s capabilities, Tony starts to parse through the different news sources to gain a more detailed picture of the event. But before he can delve too deep in his own investigations, a gentle hand makes contact with his forearm causing him to flinch minutely, caught off guard. 

“Tony?”

“Lo!” Tony clutches his chest, where the arc reactor had previously been housed. “I swear, I am buying you a bell, and you are going to like it. Dear G-d, my heart.” 

Amused and only mildly contrite, Loki moves closer until they stand chest to chest with their faces only a few centimeters apart. Telegraphing his movements, he rests his forehead on Tony’s. 

“To be bestowed more gifts from my darling? I have no complaints.” Loki smirks at the slight flush accompanied by sulking lips. 

“Hmph.” Tony pouts, purposely attempting to act unaffected. Though, success in that act is as distant as Venus’ visibility to the naked eye. “So, what’s up?” 

Loki pulls out his phone and shows the inventor his notification. 

“Ah. No rest for the ambiguously wicked.” 

“I have no wish to leave you, but…” Loki is interrupted by Tony’s own hands resting on the mage’s chest. His heart beats just a little bit faster at the contact before subsiding to its average rate. 

“It’s okay.” Leaning forward close enough for his breath to be felt on the other’s neck, Tony inhales the comfortable scent of leather, petrichor, and mint for just a moment. The inventor leans back, while maintaining contact. 

Emboldened by the display, Loki wraps his free hand from the other’s nape to drag it down until he stops low, not quite reaching the tantalizing curve of firm ass but still past the dip of the lower back. The adopted Prince of Asgard leans down to breathe in the scent of his svass, a clean cologne mixed with the other’s natural scent of metal, fire, and the tantalizing scent of coconut. 

“I won’t be long.” 

“Take as much time as you need. We’ve got our own mess to clean up here.” Tony gestures humorless at his StarkPad.

“Hmm, yes. Which reminds me,” Loki brings his own hand up to gesture at the footage. “I suggest you look not into the casualties, but assess why the bombing might have occurred in the first place. Considering, how the van was able to pass through security, more of your U.N. representatives should have been killed. If that were the aim of your terrorists.” The mage’s tone is heavy with doubt.

Tony’s mouth opens and pauses. “I didn’t think of that.” Tony’s eyes light up with the new puzzle. “We’re too focused on the event, and not every piece of evidence is that clear cut. It’s too simple.”

Brushing his hand on Tony’s cheek to catch the other’s attention. “I’ve said my part on the matter. Nonetheless, do _not_ hesitate to call for my aid. Promise me this.” 

Aware of his tendency to forego help, Tony nods his assent. “I promise… to try.” He falls into the hug, leanly muscled arms around his waist and his own arms wrapped around Loki’s back. 

A sigh, knowing that as much as he’d like to force the issue, Tony will always come to his own decisions. Placing a quick kiss to the other’s temple, Loki brings his hands up to frame the face of his love. 

“Be safe, Tony.” 

“Take care, Lo.” 

With that exchange, Loki of Asgard disappears in a cloud of green smoke which dissipates, fortunately, before Rhodey had walked back into the room. 

“Tones? Where did Loke go?” Rhodey asks his friend who still stands dazed and slightly forlorn.

Rousing himself, Tony turns to Rhodey with a what-can-you-do attitude. “Something came up with his family, and Loke had to personally take care of it. But he said he’ll be back when he can.” 

“He will? If he’s busy, it might be better to just tell him to keep away for now. We’ve got a lot on our plate and it’s not really open to civilians.” 

“See, that’s what I told him. But he insisted.” 

Slightly suspicious but not wanting to doubt his best friend. “Uh…Okay.” Tempted to ask what the other man could possibly do about their situation, Rhodey holds his tongue instead. “Just make sure none of the others find out you’re telling a civilian about-“ He gestures in a circular motion. “-all this.” Rhodey shakes his head, tired. 

Fighting his growing exhaustion, Tony sighs and massages circles into his temples. “What did you find out?” 

Rhodey gestures to their, thankfully, still packed bags. “We’ve been called to Berlin. There’s footage of the Winter Soldier stashing the bomb that exploded at the U.N. Complex.” 

Tony’s eyes widen only to forcefully shut them closed, wincing in pain at the bitch of a headache. “Fuck.”

****

Loki appears back in Asgard when his clone, disguised as Odin, is alone. The Allfather’s rooms are lavish and ostentatious with mementos scattered from previous wars, in which the young Odin had participated or purposefully incited. Smirking with dark amusement at the direction of his thoughts, the mage turns to his clone. “What was so important that you needed me here?”

The clone, now turned back into Loki, inclines his head and wears an insouciant smirk— every inch the same as the original, except for the now visible translucent quality of its manifestation. “It would seem that Thor is not as dim as we presumed.”

“Explain.” Loki’s eyes narrow, green turning darker. 

“He’s started keeping a closer eye on me and not so subtly questioning every order I’ve doled out.” 

With an annoyed roll of his eyes, Loki vanishes his clone and thinks through his options. On one hand, his plans have already been put into place with patrols increased and more than just one person keeping an eye on realm. He places the facade of Odin over his person and walks to the door, telling the guard to summon Thor. Expecting to wait for at least ten-minutes, he seats himself on a chair overlooking the balcony of the King’s room. 

In less than five-minutes, Thor’s heavy footsteps usher in his arrival along with his forceful knocking of the chamber doors. 

“Enter.” 

Thor comes in with Mjolnir in hand and gently closes the door behind him. “Something you wanted to tell me _Father_?”

Odin's expression changes from his usual stern glower into a mischievous smirk, with teeth. 

Immediately, Thor rushes the face of who he had thought to be his father. Instead, he encounters the chair and a familiar green mist. 

“Honestly, Thor, I worry for your mind. This has to be, what, the-” Stops to count his fingers, only to shake his head in dismay. “As it turns out, this has happened a time too many, for it seems I’ve lost count.” 

Righting himself quickly, he halts at the upturned palms aimed his way.

“Peace, Thor-“

“Peace! Peace!? What peace could your mischief produce, brother?” 

No longer amused. “More than you know. Now, calm yourself and listen.” Loki keeps his distance.

“Why should I trust you?” Thor straightens out, hammer gripped tight. 

“No trust in your king?” A forlorn shake of the head.

“You are _not_ my king.” Said through gritted teeth. 

“Oh? And I suppose what peace the land has achieved amounted to nothing. The established fortifications to our defenses? Offenses? The furthering of our patrols and re-establishment of our barriers?” Thor quiets at each reasonably listed result, for which Loki had -under the guise of Odin- done. 

“He’s been gone for so long? How could I have-“

Before Thor had a chance to truly wallow in his justifiable guilt, Loki turns to fix himself a pot of tea, thus interrupting the wallowing. 

“What have you done to him?” Thor said threateningly with Mjolnir pointed at Loki.

“I have done nothing, except do his job. And do his job well, if I do say so myself.” Loki sips his tea. 

“Nothing? What do you-“ Greatly bewildered.

“I mean that at the event of the Dark Elves’ attack the Allfather entered the Odin sleep.” No joking or mischief, and the seriousness of the event causes Thor’s hackles to subside. 

“But…” 

“I know. It’s too soon, considering his last slumber.” 

The hand holding Mjolnir falls. Strength and power made useless at the knowledge of the possibility their father may be waning before them. “Where is he?” 

Loki flexes his hand in a come hither motion. The brothers walk to one of the many shelves stacked with baubles and books. Rather than the cliched pull of a book to open some hidden passage, Loki turns to a torch with camouflaged runes. With the right pattern of runes highlighted, a secret trap door reveals itself at the foot of the shelf revealing spiraling steps. 

“You moved his chambers.” 

“Obviously.” Loki quickly walks in.

“ _Must_ you carry a tone.” Thor follows. 

“Must _you_ state the obvious.” Mocking.

The two continue to gripe as they descend until they reach the glass enclosure meant to be housing Odin. Their conversation ends abruptly however when they find that the bed is empty. 

Loki stands stunned, while Thor steps closer to the bed as if searching for the possibility of his father being invisible.

Menacing. “Loki.”

Indignant. “He was here! I haven't moved him since he was transferred.”

Narrowed eyes. “And you think I’ll-“

“Believe me or not. I speak what I know to be truth.” He turns jade, green eyes to the empty bed. Confusion, a blatantly visible expression on his otherwise well-masked face. “I don’t understand.” 

Despite his misgivings, and Loki’s opinion, Thor could read his brother well. And the fact  of the other’s surprise and lack of understanding brought a heavier sense of foreboding than Thor was comfortable having. 

****

[Bucharest]

Barnes started the day by waking up from a fragmented nightmare and decided by midday to buy plums at the local downtown markets. Maybe it was fate or destiny, but whatever it was, if he hadn’t walked outside, he never would have known about his apparent bombing of the U.N. building in Vienna. Pushing down his growing panic, he looked closely at the newspaper and felt very aware of the confusion marring his face. 

The attack had occurred the day before, and his face was splashed in fairly vivid detail for a so-called stealth bomber to have successfully achieved the mission. Other than the fact that it would take twelve-hours on average to get from Bucharest to Vienna, not including the traffic and necessary border checks, how could he have quickly gone from Austria to Romania without being caught by border security? 

Dismissing his speculation, Barnes quickly moved through the streets to get back to his apartment. It was time to go on the lamb. Again. 

He couldn’t let the frustration or melancholy get to him, but he’d thought that he could finally be free to be whoever he was. Not the Winter Soldier. Not Bucky. Maybe, not even Barnes. 

However, when he arrived at his door, the small piece of hair placed in the hinge of the door was misplaced, signaling a break-in. Bracing for an attack, he was honestly not too surprised to find Captain America -Steve- in his kitchen. 

Steve had been warned by Natasha for interfering, but this was the same man who’d stood by him when he’d picked fights with no hope of winning them. *“Do you know me?”

Wary yet calmed by a subconsciously familiar face, Barnes answers: *“You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.” 

Sam comms Steve about the police finishing their perimeter around the building. 

Before Steve can respond, both super soldiers hear the thump of combat boots on solid floors and a canister of teargas crashes through the window. 

Both Barnes and Steve move toward the canister. Using the shield, Steve covers the canister before the gas can leak. Not expecting it, Steve makes no move to dodge the metal hand curled in a fist coming closer to his face. But before it could reach, the fist comes down to break through the floor, right next to the shield preventing the teargas from permeating. 

In that small fraction of a second, the door breaks down bringing with it men donned in tactical armor, carrying a variety of weapons meant to kill rather than subdue. 

Barnes pulls out the duffle hidden under his floorboards and tosses it out the window. He takes the small kitchen table and throws it at the first set of men coming through, incapacitating them as the force of the object knocked their helmeted heads against the cement wall. 

Steve calls out: “Buck, stop! You’re gonna kill someone.”

Sam has redwing standby outside of the room, hovering just to the side of the windows and only visible to Steve.

“No, I’m not.” With that rejoinder, Barnes runs towards the door, body-checking another soldier into the wall. Outside of his apartment, another soldier shoots at him, and he uses his left arm to shield from the barrage of bullets, while angling to ricochet them back at the armored soldiers. In the clear, he keeps running down the stairs, and when another soldier blocks his way, he jumps off a step to land a solid kick at the uniformed chest. Noticing more soldiers coming his way, he forgoes the steps by going over to a balcony railing. He takes a running start and jumps to land at an empty neighboring rooftop by using his left arm to catch the edge of the building, screaming at the pain of his shoulder. He pulls himself up and runs to his duffel, sitting innocuously in plain sight.

Meanwhile, Steve had been following a few steps behind Barnes and making sure that the other soldiers were unable to follow. Using his shield (and his understanding of geometric spacing), he tosses the shield at an angle that catches the wall causing it to go sharply and hit a number of soldiers in the torso, likely cracking if not breaking a few ribs. As the shield ends up wedged into another wall, Steve slams his elbow down on another soldier starting to get up. Following Barnes’ path, he is accosted by three more soldiers and rather than settling for exchanging punches, Steve kicks out at the first’s knee, uses an open palm to hit the second’s throat, and throws the third over his shoulder. 

Sam spreads his wings at another rooftop. “Cap, I’ve got redwing on him.” He signals and jumps off to follow after his scouter-bot. 

Still on the neighboring building, Barnes rights himself and keeps running, only to be halted by a humanoid shadow falling on him. 

A man dressed in an all black suit, lined with accents of metal at certain joints faces Barnes. The outline of the head offers no hint of the face underneath but is arranged to be reminiscent of a jaguar or black panther. 

In just the nick of time, Barnes orients himself at a crouch and brings up his left arm, preventing his face from being scratched -gouged- by metal claws. The sharp scrape of metal on metal was irritating, while the sparks that came off were likely enough to start a fire if there had been kindling on hand. Just as Barnes starts to roll away after throwing a close swing, a barrage of bullets hail down on both him and his humanoid-cat attacker. 

The gunner on the chopper aims directly at the two hostiles without heeding any possible collateral damage of the surrounding civilian area. 

Sam flies in to impact the helicopter’s tail and spin it off course. He glides away. 

Just as the chopper rights itself, War Machine flies in with his voice on speaker, tone acerbic and incredulous: “Hey! Guy shooting at the civilian apartment complex. Hold your fire!” 

Along with the warning and the very physical presence of War Machine hovering before them, the gunner halts, but this proved enough of a distraction for Barnes to jump down from the building nearly getting hit by oncoming traffic. 

Redwing continues to follow. 

Having lost sight of Barnes, Steve keeps running. He can hear sirens ringing behind him and the flash of red and blue lights. Ignoring the policeman’s call to stand down, he crashes himself into the police car’s windshield and steals the vehicle.

Rhodey sighs, when not only does the Winter Soldier continue engaging with the everyday populous, but so does their mysterious cat-armored stranger followed by Steve, shield in hand. Knowing that the small space of the underground tunnel calls for a large disadvantage with his suit, Rhodey flies over to an open area of the underpass and hovers, waiting. 

Barnes runs through traffic, the armored cat-man chasing after him. He jumps over an incoming police car, and grabs a motorcycle by the handlebars, tossing the rider to the sidewalk area. Sensing the hostile presence closing in on him, Barnes takes the motorcycle and swings it behind him, but the armored cat man crouches with a low spinning, sweep kick. Knocked off his feet, Bucky releases the bike before he can get pinned under it. 

Both men stand at the ready for a good ol’ brawl. At the same time, Steve arrives and jumps out of his car, leaving it to spin and turn behind him. Sam arrives at the scene with police surrounding the melee. 

But before Barnes and the cat-man can rush at each other, the loud whine of repulsors above their heads stops them.

Rhodey’s voice comes through the suit’s speakers: “Everybody stand down!” The second his boots touch the ground, he turns to Steve and Sam. “Congratulations, Cap. Falcon. You’re criminals.” 

As policemen put cuffs on Steve, Sam, and Barnes, the armored cat-man touches the base of his mask to remove it. 

Rhodey shakes his head, incredulous before he nods his head in acknowledgement. “Your Highness, King T’Challa.” It’s not the first time he’s dealt with a high profile civilian suddenly engaging in heroics. He can already feel his gray hairs growing in number at the logistic nightmare of having to transport all four to Berlin. 

 

****

[Berlin]

Tony stares off into the distance, phone in hand, and ignores Natasha pacing in his periphery. 

One of the staff membershad led him to stand in the glass enclosure, but that only left Tony feeling claustrophobic and irritated. Said genius, billionaire is sitting in a swivel chair, dressed in a new suit. His tie loose, shirt open at the collar, vest still buttoned, and the formerly lined edges of his pants have softened to mold his thighs.

Natasha, instead of sitting by the long desk with Tony, stands by to observe the set of doors. 

“Nat, you keep staring at those doors, you’ll bore a hole in them.”

Natasha raises a brow and crosses her arms, defensive. “As opposed to you, who’s just sitting and twisting in his chair like an impatient child.”

In response, Tony simply continues swiveling his swivel chair without once looking back at her. He keeps his hand on his phone, anticipating a call from some government head of some country. Whoever calls first will get his best, while the last will get his most tired. He sees shapes coming towards their office enclosure. With no attempts of hiding what he’s doing, Tony positions his chair to the very edge of the glass wall, clearly watching who seems to be Sharon Carter and a comparably shorter man with silver hair in a gray suit come closer. 

Said comparably shorter, silver-haired man strides purposely down the corridor lined with floor-to-ceiling glass windows on each side. Sharon walks behind him and to the side, wearing a tactical vest and armed with a shoulder holster. The two headed to a set of offices.

The guards by the doors open them welcoming the two. 

“Avengers.” The silver-haired man greets, pleasant.

“*This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander.” Sharon introduces. 

Natasha smiles, unable to hide the tension sitting under her skin. 

Tony smiles, every edge tired but for the glint in his eye. “Any relation to Thaddeus ‘Thunderbolt’ Ross?” 

Everett huffs a laugh. “No, not at all. But I do seem to get that a lot.” He steps closer and offers his hand.

Tony stands up and grips the hand firm yet gentle. His camera-ready smile never having left. “Too bad. I was hoping you’d have a nickname of Everett ‘Lightningbolt’ Ross.” 

Charmed, Everett shakes his head. “If you must, please use that nickname scarcely and only between us, Dr. Stark. Wouldn’t have an idea what to do if any of the personnel got word of the moniker.” The two step back a comfortable distance. “Good flight?” He asks the two. 

A purposely tired smile, and strategically untouched piece of soot still on her cheek. Natasha responds, “As well as it could be considering.” She shrugs, easy-going but for her straight-backed posture and hidden hands. 

“Of course.” Everett nods, seemingly appeased. “Won’t you take a seat?” 

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” 

“And you, Dr. Stark?” Everett angles his body to Tony but doesn’t turn his back on Natasha. All the while, Sharon stands back closer to the doors and one hand on her earpiece.

“I’m good. Oh and please, mister is just fine.” Tony leans on the table, posture open. 

“Alright then. Mr. Stark, I hear congratulations are in order, given that you are now the new leader of the Avengers.” Everett smiles with teeth. 

Tony smiles back. “Thanks.”

“All pleasantries aside, shall we talk about what we’re all really here for?” 

No response is given, but for Natasha’s eyebrow twitching and Tony’s lip biting. 

“Captain America and Sergeant Sam Wilson are to be extradited-“

Natasha steps forward. “Wait-“

Everett brings a hand up to pause her, and Sharon follows the unsaid order by taking her own step forward. “While I understand you have a penchant for forgoing government protocol and exposing fellow agents in the name of what you believe to be right, please do not interrupt me Miss Romanoff.” 

Tony looks at Everett, analyzing. The other man has been nothing but polite since he first entered the room. But its clear to see that behind his unassuming face, a spine unbending lies hidden. 

“My apologies, sir.” Natasha curses silently to herself, already knowing when she’s lost any possibility of building rapport with the man. 

“Apology accepted, but the same can’t be said for Captain Rogers and Sergeant Wilson. They blatantly interfered with the capture of a suspected terrorist — one who is a known Hydra agent mind you—, attacked Romanian law enforcement, and also attacked a U.N. representative, one who happens to have gained the title of king because of the earlier bombing.” Everett stares the two Avengers before him down. “After Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes has safely transported the Captain, Sergeant Wilson, King T’Challa, and the Winter Soldier —former or otherwise— we expect you two and the rest of the Avengers to adhere to the demands of every representative that was present at the bombing. The Avengers will be assembled in due of the role they have accepted after signing the Accords. Any questions?” 

“I’ve got two.” Tony brings up his right index and middle fingers. 

“Okay.” Everett blinks. 

“Do you really think Barnes is responsible for the bombing?” 

“His face is caught on camera.”

“And there’s technology that can mimic a person’s facial features down to every wrinkle. Natasha can attest to that.” Tony throws a thumb at her.

Meeting Everett’s blue eyes, Natasha nods. “Yes, sir. I’ve once used a mask that did exactly as Tony’s described.” 

“The U.N. wants immediate answers-“

“But are you willing to condemn a man who wasn’t guilty?” Tony stays leaning on the table, relaxed and open. 

Everett’s face is honest and clearly displays his own thoughts about the pointed question aimed at him. Rather answering, he says, “What’s your second question?”

“What if we can convince them to sign the Accords? Them being Rogers, Wilson, and Barnes.”

“Barnes is not an Avenger.” 

“He was a POW taken in by enemy combatants. Later tortured and experimented. Brainwashed so severely that he’s not even sure _who_ he is.” Tony leans back in his seat, every bit the cat that caught the canary. “And you didn’t answer my question.” 

Tony pulls something out of his jacket pocket. “What about these?” 

Everett takes the box and opens it. What he finds inside causes him to shake his head and wrinkle his mouth. “Had these lying around?” He looks up at Tony and hands the box back to him. 

“Found it gathering dust in dear old dad’s stuff.” Tony smiles, toothless. 

“Hm.” Everett smiles back before he fixes his posture. “Once they arrive, Barnes will be kept separate in a cement cell within a special glass box. A psychiatrist is on site to evaluate him. As for your second question,” He looks at Tony, either impressed or appalled at his logic. “-I’d bring that up with Secretary Ross. And speaking of, he called me earlier and said that he should be calling _you_ in about-“

Tony’s phone rings, the theme song of Star Wars: The Imperial March. 

“Now.” Everett smiles. “Interesting ringtone.”

Sharon receives a message on her comm. “Sir, they’re here.”

“We’ll continue this conversation later, Avengers. ” 

“Hope we can keep things civil, Deputy Task Force Commander.” Tony lets the phone keep ringing.

“Please, call me Everett or Lightningbolt, if you prefer.” Everett walks back out, followed by Sharon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait. The inspiration for this story was dying and then had bursts of animation at random turns. But honestly, I'm not so sure this story will be complete (at least not for a long while). Read at your own risk. 
> 
> Thank you all for those who continue to support the story!


End file.
